Midnight Sun & Melting Snow
by the Last Flowerchild
Summary: When Toki first joins Dethklok, nobody thinks that he'll amount to much of anything, but that doesn't stop Pickles from falling in love with him. Pickles/Toki slash. Rated 'M' for sexual content. Reviews are love.
1. Chapter 1

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****WARNINGS****

**Slash, Bad Language, Drug/Alcohol Usage**

**If you don't like it, don't read.**

****DISCLAIMER****

**I don't own anything.**

_**Reviews = Love**_

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"_I am just an image of something so much greater  
I am just a picture frame, I am not the painter  
Where do I begin, can I shed this skin  
What is this I feel within?"_

~Civil Twilight, Human

_**P R O L O G U E**_

"**SHIT, HERE HE GOES AGAIN," **Pickles sighed as the rhythm guitarist, Mayer Hamilton, began strumming out another one of his impossibly long solos right in the middle of a song. He stopped drumming. The whole band stopped playing, but not Hamilton. He didn't take notice of the silence until Skwisgaar went over to his amp and unplugged it. Only then did he stop and look up, a sneer on his face.

"Hey, man, what the fuck's your problem?" Mayer spat, glaring at the Swede. "I was just in the middle of-"

"Of playings another one of your stupids, dildos solos. Ja, we knows," Skwisgaar said bitterly. Being the lead guitarist, he pretty much wrote all the song material—guitar and bass, which counted as a lot. He was a major contributor to _Dethklok's _success, and he didn't like people stealing his thunder or ignoring the carefully planned out notes he wrote.

Pickles, however, was just annoyed by the stupid rhythm guitarist himself. He didn't care if he was messing up songs and ignoring then notes—the idiot just pissed him off. Without remorse, Pickles threw down his drumsticks and yelled, "Okay, 'dat's it! I'm not playing another fuckin' song with that douchebag!"

"Yeah, he never shtopsh with the shtupid sholosh," Murderface lisped, spit flying from his mouth. He put down his bass and said, "It getsh obnoxioush after a while."

"Obnoxious?" Mayer exclaimed, throwing down his guitar. "You think I'm obnoxious?"

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, we do. I mean, it might be one thing if you actually played the songs like Skwisgaar wrote them, but you don't. You _never _do. You always have to get out of control and-"

"Yeah, 'cause I'm the best fuckin' guitarist in the whole fucking world," he said indignantly.

Skwisgaar glared at him and challenged, "Permits me to disagree."

"Fuck you, dildo!" Mayer spat, throwing his guitar against the wall. "I don't need this! I practically hold this band together, and all you guys do is complain! Where would you all be without me?"

"Uh...done with 'dis album about two months sooner," Pickles said, crossing his arms and grinning. " 'Dat's where we'd be."

"Shut the fuck up, _Pickles!" _Mayer spat the name out hatefully before continuing, "You're probably so drunk right now that you don't know whether to shit or piss!"

" 'Dat's not the point," the drummer said, still smiling. "but yeah, if you really wanna know, I am."

Everyone laughed at this, only making the guitarist angrier. He went right up to where Pickles sat, placidly tapping one of his drums with his index finger, and said, "What do you know? Hell, at least I know how to screw a chick."

He shrugged, still not showing any outward sign of turmoil at Mayer's words. "Yeah, so what? We've all fucked chicks before—except Murderface. He never gets no ass."

The bassist glared at him and retorted, "I have to fucked a girl bef-"

Skwisgaar reached over and placed a hand over his mouth, saying quietly, "Silence, my friends. Watch them tears each other aparts." he was getting much enjoyment out of Mayer and Pickles' fight, and when the rhythm guitarist tried to tip over the whole drum kit, he began laughing madly.

Pickles pushed Hamilton away, however, before any serious damage could be done. "Look, why don't you just piss aff? Don't go tryin' to break _my _shit just 'cause you know you're just a talentless-"

"Yeah, well fine!" Mayer finally said, breathing hard, his face red. "You think _I'm _talentless? Fine, we'll see. We'll see how fucking good this stupid band does without me!"

"What're you saying?" Nathan asked.

"I quit!"

And Mayer Hamilton stormed out of the room. That was the last time anyone really ever saw him again. The truth was that he was a pretty mediocre guitarist, and although he could write music when he wanted too, it still wouldn't be enough to persuade any record company to sign him. After that day the name of Mayer Hamilton washed away from pop culture and the man himself would be found dead about a year later listening to the pounding music of _Dethklok's _latest album with a heroin needle sticking out from his arm. The doctors would try to cover up the fact that he had overdosed and just list his cause of death as a heart attack.

But that would come later. What came now was Nathan letting out a loud, almost animal-like growl, and him saying, "Fucking bullshit! Now we have to find a whole new fucking rhythm guitarist!"

"Why can'ts I just dos it?" Skwisgaar asked.

"Because," he said, "We need something else...we need a whole new kind of _person, _you know? Like someone whose not really an attention-whoring idiot whose full of themselves..."

"What exactlys ammnest you trying to says about me, Nathans?"

"That'sh perfect!" Murderface said. "I'm that guy! I could do that!"

"No, 'dat's stupid." Pickles disagreed, frowning. "Why can't we just-"

"No!" Nathan screamed. "We're getting a replacement so later on we can rub it in Hamilton's face!" and his eyes became dark as he repeated, "Replace his fucking sorry ass."

And in the course of locating and signing a new rhythm guitarist, Nathan would change his mind about the matter at least twelve times, saying that they didn't need one or that they did. In the end, as Ofdensen introduced him to a young Norwegian named Toki Wartooth, he was under the impression that they might be better off without one after all...

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**Chapter 1, Part 1**

**Something New Begins**

Everyone stared at the new rhythm guitarist with mixtures of confusion and discontent. "Who 'de fucks ammnest 'dat agains?" Skwisgaar demanded, temporarily ceasing the strumming of his Gibson.

"I already told you, its the new guy," Nathan said, glaring at each and every one of them. "He's replacing Hamilton."

"Replacin'?" Pickles asked. "Since when did we need to replace Mayer?"

"Since he quit, dildo." he retorted, turning his deadly gaze to the drummer. He motioned to the stranger who stood next to him—a distinctly Scandinavian-looking kid with long, brown hair, a Fu Manchu, and a pair of shockingly pale blue eyes. The kid had a blank expression on his face as he stared at the other members of _Dethklok, _but his nervousness became clear once you took a look at his hands, which he was clasping together in an effort to hide their insane shaking.

"This is Toki," Nathan continued. "He's the new rhythm guitarist."

Murderface let out a groan. "I thought we shaid that we didn't need one of thoshe guysh!"

"Well I changed my mind! We-"

"You funny," Toki spoke up suddenly, trying to hide the shaking in his voice. Murderface glared at him.

"What do you mean, I'm _funny?"_

"You talks funny."

"Well sho do you! Addin' esshesh to shtuff!" and he turned his attention back to Nathan, who was still standing firmly by Toki's side, his arms crossed over his chest. "Hey, dick-brain, what did you shay thish kid'sh name wash again?"

"Toki Werewolf or Waterhorse or something."

"Tokis Wartooth," the new kid said quietly, looking down.

Pickles stifled a laugh and repeated, "Yeah, I'm sorry, but did you just say _Tokis Wartooth?"_

He nodded and turned a light shade of red. "Ja."

"So, like, Toki_s_ as in plural, or what?"

Skwisgaar laughed and said to himself, "Ha, he cant's speak Anglish."

"Okay, okay, guys, look," Nathan said, glaring at them all. "He's new here. He just came from Norway, so cut the kid a fucking break. His name is Toki Wartooth and he's going to be our new fucking rhythm guitarist, so if you don't like it, shove it up your ass and shut up, because that's how it's going to be."

Everyone grew silent and watched as Toki went and took a seat on the floor quietly, still looking down at his boots. A Gibson Flying-V was slung around his back, and whenever he sat down the other guitarist, Skwisgaar, took notice, pointing at his guitar and laughing again. "Ha, 'dat ammnest dildos guitar!"

Toki turned around and asked cluelessly, "Huh?"

"Your guitars," he said, grinning maliciously. "It ammnest didlos."

"Dildos? What dildos mean?"

"Oh my Gods—are you kidding me?"

Toki innocently shook his head, making everyone the room besides Nathan laugh. His face became red all over again, and his eyes darted from one musician to the other. "What? What it mean?"

"Nathans, where you get this guy?" Skwisgaar asked, hugging his sides as he laughed. "Stupids idiot don't even know what dildos mean!"

Nathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat and grumbled, "He's from Norway." as if this explained everything.

Murderface smiled and repeated, "Norway? Norway? Where the fucksh that?"

"Ain't 'dat in Australia or somethin'?" Pickles wondered aloud. "But he sure don't sound Australian..."

"Course it ammnest not in Astraickliha, dildo," Skwisgaar said smartly. "Norway is stupids place where 'dere ammnest only rocks and snow."

Toki frowned. "We gots water, too, not just snow, Skwisgaar."

"Well all the sames, it ammnest still stupids."

"Ams not!"

Skwisgaar glared down at the Norwegian and gave him a firm kick in the back before resuming the strumming of his guitar and saying, "Don't talks back to me, idiots."

"I wasn't talkings back, I-"

Now the Swede gave him a good kick between the shoulders. It was so hard and sudden that Toki actually fell forwards, a fine boot-print now outlined on his back. Nathan let out a sigh and roughly pulled him back up, saying to Skwisgaar, "Cut it out, Skwigelf."

"Me cutting it out? Looks at him, talkings back to me like I bitch. Fucks 'dat." and he grew silent and focused all of his attention back to his guitar. Nathan rolled his eyes and turned back to Toki, who was trying to hide the humiliated look on his face.

"Listen, why don't you go unpack your stuff. One of the Klokateers will show you where your room i-"

" 'Kay, thanking you, Nathans," Toki said as he hurried to gather up his things and go out the room. Once he had left, Pickles let out a groan and crossed his arms.

"Do we gotta keep him?"

"Yeah, he'sh dildos!" Murderface agreed.

Skwisgaar just said quietly, "Seemest like big pussy to mes."

"Look, guys, we need a rhythm guitarist, okay?" Nathan said firmly. "And he's good enough—not great, but just good enough, so why don't you all just shut the fuck up and give him a chance?"

Everyone nodded and grumbled, agreeing that they would try their best to make little Toki Wartooth feel at home, but inside Pickles couldn't help but think, _That kid won't last a week._

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**Chapter 1, Part 2**

**Competition**

Later that day, once Toki had managed to unpack most of his things, which admittedly weren't all that much, Nathan called for a recording session. Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and groaned, "Why we gots to do 'dat today, Nathans?"

"Because," was his simple response to this as he lead the others into the recording studio.

Toki looked around the studio with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. He was holding his guitar very tightly, as tough it were the only thing tethering him to the ground. His innocent, blue eyes were full of wonder as Nathan closed the door behind him and said, "Welcome to the studio, motherfucker."

"Uh-huh." was all he said. "So we records here?"

"No, we jack each other off," Murderface responded, rolling his eyes. "Of courshe we record here! Why do you think it'sh called the _recording shtudio?"_

He shrugged and went to stand next to Skwisgaar. Pickles frowned at this, however, and warned him, "Uh, dude, you might not wanna do 'dat."

"Whys not?" Toki inquired, rubbing his nose distractedly.

" 'Cause ain't you never seen any of our concerts on T.V. Or nothin'? That guy head bangs like nobody's business."

"Oh, ja, I cans do that too!"

He shrugged and sat down behind his drum kit. "Whatever, all I'm sayin' is that I think you'll be a lot safer if you stand right here." he pointed to a vacant spot to his right, one behind the Swede. Toki, not wanting to cause anymore unwanted tension, went over to where he was pointing. Pickles leaned towards him and whispered, "Besides all that stuff, Skwisgaar's got a little prablem with people who get attention that ain't him."

Toki arched a brow. "What you mean, Pickle?"

"Well, it's sorta like an inferiority complex, or whatever." when the Norwegian still didn't look any less confused, the drummer simply said, "You'll see."

And Nathan began growling and screaming lyrics into the mic, with Skwisgaar never hesitating to interrupt him with a wild solo. Toki just strummed along, keeping up with relative ease until Murderface edged towards him a little to much. He got distracted, hit a bad note, and the bassist laughed. Murderface gave him a sideways glance and just as Toki began picking up the song again, he elbowed him as hard as he could in the ribs, making him double over and let out a cry of pain.

All the music stopped and Nathan turned to them, breathing hard. "What the fuck was that? Were you trying to sing or something, because I thought we told you that-"

Toki shook his head. He was still trying to get a handle on himself as he said, "He just elbows me ams all."

"Murderface..." Nathan began. The bassist, realizing the trouble he had gotten himself in, quickly shook his head and held up his hands.

"I didn't do anything! It wash Picklesh!"

"What? I didn't do anything, and you know it, asshole!" the drummer exclaimed, jumping up from his seat.

Somehow thru watching Murderface elbow Toki, he had managed to keep drumming, not even thinking about the music or the cues. He supposed that it was just automatic, they had practiced the songs so many times that they were somewhat robots now. However, this didn't stop him from getting back some of his old emotion and throwing one of his drumsticks at Murderface.

"I didn't do anything Nathan," he continued, his red dreadlocks getting all out of place in his display of anger. "I saw what he done! He was _tryin' _to fuck up Toki! I saw it!"

"I wash not!" Murderface protested. "I jusht bumped him! It wash-"

"Don'ts lie abouts it," Skwisgaar said, leaning against an amp. "We alls want him out just as bad as you dos, so don't be pussy and acts like you didn't dos it—_I _would've dones it myself, but he ammnest was too fars away."

"What did I dos to makes you so mad at me?" Toki asked, trying to hide his hurt and confusion. "I just walks in and yous ams all-"

"We don't needs you here, dildo!"

"Okay, guys, guys. Remember what I said." Nantan broke in. He glared at Toki and said, "You, move a little farther away from Murderface and-"

"But then Skwisgaar ams going to mess me up!"

He shook his head. "No he won't."

Toki seemed desperate as he said, nearly pleading, "Nathans, but please—he hates me!"

"Looks, maybe we should just trys it out," Skwisgaar said calmly. "I promises 'dat I won't try to upsets him, Nathan. Swear to God."

"Okay, then let's try it again."

Pickles shook his head and sighed as he resumed pounding away at his drums. _Stupid idiot. Who would believe Skwisgaar?_

He really did feel bad for Toki, especially as he watched the Swede taking little steps closer to him, stomping on his boots and trying to get him to mess up again. Toki was determined now. He stared down at his guitar while his fingers skillfully played. Skwisgaar frowned at this and, not knowing what else to do to regain his thunder, he stamped down his boot on a wire that lead to Toki's amp, unplugging it. The Norwegian continued playing for a few more seconds before he realized what Skwisgaar had done, then he let out a cry and covered his face with his hands.

Once again, Nathan stopped singing and asked, "What the fuck is wrong now?"

"I...I..." Toki could barley bite back tears of embarrassment and anger as he pointed at the other guitarist and said wretchedly, "...he unplug amp."

To this the Swede let out a scoff and said sarcastically, "Oh, _'dat _ammnest good, little, stupids Toki! I'm surprised you knows what amp is..."

"I not stupid, Skwisgaar!"

He crossed his arms, gave the Norwegian a mischievous grin, and said, "Permits me to disagree."

"Ha, look!" Murderface said, pointing at Toki and laughing. "He'sh crying!"

"I ams _not _crying!" he said, uncovering his face. The only bad part about this movement was that it displayed the fact that he _was _indeed crying. His face was red, and some of his brown hair clung to the shining trails of tears that winded down his cheeks. Upon seeing this, Skwisgaar and Murderface collapsed onto the ground, laughing madly.

Pickles couldn't bring himself to laugh or even smile. If it had been anyone else—_anyone-_he would have, but Toki was just so...

He didn't know. It was odd. He didn't like the kid, but he didn't dislike him either. He felt bad for him, so very bad as Toki looked to Nathan for help. The singer just sighed and said, "Let's call this one a wrap."

And that was it, but it didn't seem like enough for Toki, who wanted retribution for his humility. In the end, he just looked down and hurried out of the room, lugging his guitar. Pickles watched him go, feeling a twisting knot in his stomach tighten and uncoil, like a constricting snake. "Poor kid..." he mumbled to himself.

Normally he didn't like to humor any kind of un-brutal behavior, but now he got to his feet and hurried out behind Toki, ignoring the shouts of Nathan calling him back. "Pickles, come back! He'll work it out on his own!"

"Fuck you," he mumbled as he walked. He wasn't mad at Nathan per say, but 'Fuck you' was usually his reaction to anything, so as he walked he kept repeating, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..."

He made his way up to where the old rhythm guitarist's room had been. The door was open, and he could see Toki throwing things angrily into his old, tattered suitcase, cursing in Norwegian and sniffling. His hair was in his face, making it impossible for Pickles to really tell if he was still crying.

"Hey...Toki?"

"What?" he demanded, looking up and wiping his nose. When he saw Pickles, his tone became softer and he said once again, "Ja?"

"You...uh...goin' somewhere?"

"Home."

"Oh. Back to Norway, Australia, huh?"

Toki nodded and zipped his suitcase up. "Uh-huh, only it ams not in Australias."

"Uh-huh." Pickles said, taking a deep breath and leaning against the frame of the door. He didn't dare enter the room. Instead he let his head fall against the frame and said, "Wow...why?"

"What yous mean why? 'Cause nobody wants me here."

"Oh."

He waited for Toki to continue, and he did. "Ja, ands I knew that this woulds be too good to be true—rhythm guitarist of _Dethklok. _Greatest things in the world, I thought, but it ams all just stupids...you don'ts need me here."

"Uh-huh." he said. He wasn't agreeing or disagreeing with him. Truthfully, the only reason he was standing here right now wasn't because he liked the Norwegian or wanted him to say. It was more because he felt guilty.

Toki tried to hide the fact that he had cried by wiping his face off on his blue shirt. Then he grabbed his suitcase, his teddy bear, and tried to push past the drummer and into the hall, but Pickles wouldn't move. Instead he grabbed at the teddy and squeezed it, smiling.

"You carry around a fuckin' teddy bear?"

Toki's face turned red. He reached for it, but the drummer held it away. "Comes on, Pickle, gives it back!"

"C'mon, I just wanna see it." and he ran his thumb over the stuffed animal's warm fur and shook his head. "Fuckin' unbelievable..."

"Gives it back."

"Or what?"

"Or I kicks your ass."

He began laughing and still didn't hand it over. "Calm down. I'm only—shit!" He cried as Toki punched him hard in his stomach. He let out a wheezing groan, fell against the door frame, and let the teddy fall onto the ground. "Fuck, Toki..." The guitarist took back his teddy and went to leave, but Pickles caught him and said, "Wait, you can't go. Not yet."

"Whys not?"

" 'Cause you can't let them be _right."_

"Is...wait, what?" he asked, his face looking puzzled. "What you means by that? _Right?"_

"I—I mean, ya know." Pickles said, standing up straight again. "Skwisgaar's right about _everything. _You really just gonna leave and make him right about this too? You really gonna let him think that you're a fuckin' pussy?"

"I ams not pussy!"

"Uh-huh. And where'd you say you were goin'? You were just about to run away, right?"

Toki looked at him, sniffled one last time, and smiled a little. He threw his stuff back into his room and closed the door. "Fine, I stay. For nows."

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****A/N****

**Hope you like the story so far. Like I said before, I love reviews, so seriously, you should review it. **

**Other than that, the only thing I think I need to explain is the mention of a time before Toki Wartooth. Before Toki was they rhythm guitarist of _Dethklok, _Mayer Hamilton was in his place. You can see him in the beginning of the episode _Renovationklok. _For reasons that were never specified, Mayer was replaced by Toki.**

**Also, you can't write Pickles without his vodka or his Wisconsin accent, so that's how I'll type it. I'm not misspelling anything, like how he will say 'aff' instead of 'off'. That's just how it is. Skwisgaar will be distinguishable from Toki [though their accents are similar, they are very different], Murderface will speak with a lot of 'sh's, and Nathan will just be...well, Nathan.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2, Part 1**

**Homesick**

The rest of the day was boring. Toki tried to keep to himself in his room, using the excuse that he had to finish unpacking. The rest of _Dethklok _did what they usually did—drink, get high, and watch T.V. Then dinner came, and with it the Norwegian, wringing his hands nervously as he took his seat at the table. As soon as he had sat down, Skwisgaar leaned over, whispered something to Murderface, and they both began laughing. Toki ignored them and stared down at his plate of food. A small frown came across his face.

"I'ms not hungry," he said, getting right back up.

Pickles arched a brow and asked, his mouth full of food, "What's wrong? Don't ya like what 'dey cooked?"

Toki shrugged and said quietly, "I'm just not hungrys."

"Well if you want, we can get them to fix you something el-"

"That's fine, thanks you." he said, getting to his feet and pushing his chair in. "I just eats something tomorrow."

He went to leave, but before he could go Nathan had gotten up and was following him. "Toki, hey, come here for a second. I think we'd better talk."

"Buts I-"

"Just for a minute."

He looked down and bit his lip. "But you saids just one time, that was it, and I coulds-"

"Just come on." Nathan roughly lead him out the room.

Pickles swallowed his food and muttered, "Weird kid..."

Once outside the dining room, Nathan slammed the door and turned to Toki, his eyes narrowed. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"What you mean?"

"Why aren't you eating?"

"I...I justs..."

He sighed. "Look, we have a few groupies coming in a little while, and maybe we could fix you up with one if that's what you need."

Toki quickly shook his head. "No, no. That's okay, reallys."

"Okay, then if that's not the problem, what is?" Nathan demanded. "Is it the food?"

"No, it's nots the food!"

"Then what?"

He struggled to come up with a reason, but could think of nothing. In the end he was left to sputter aimlessly, "Buts I...I just...I don'ts know, it's just..." he sighed and ran a hand thru his hair, trying to calm himself down. "I guesses I just needs time or somethings..."

"Okay, then," Nathan responded, backing away towards the door to the dining room. "Fine, we can give you that much, just try not to act like such a dildo all the time, got it?"

Before Toki could respond, Nathan had gone back into the dining room, slamming the door behind him. The guitarist was left to stand there, looking quite pitiful as he lowered his head, bit his lip, and leaned against the wall. He let himself double over and hugged himself helplessly. He was cold, confused...why had he even bothered to show up to dinner? He hadn't been hungry in weeks since _Dethklok _had approached him, since he had left Norway. He had hated it over there, hated his life, his parents, everything—just before he had decided to take things into his own hands and to end it all, Ofdensen had approached him with a wonderful offer.

Toki let out a cry and wiped at his eyes, trying to contain his tears. God, was he miserable. "I knows it would be this way, I knows I just want to ends up dying agains." he mumbled as he peeled himself away from the wall and began the long, hopeless walk back to his room. He stumbled along for the longest time, not bothering to keep track of where he was going. It seemed like hours, yet he still had no distinct direction in mind.

Who was he kidding? He _hoped _he was going back to his room, but Mordhaus was so big that he really had no clue where he was going. The only reason he had managed to reach the dining room was because he had made a Klokateer lead him there. As Toki walked, he couldn't help but think back to all of Skwisgaar's comments and Murderface's laughter. It all echoed in his brain endlessly, giving him a piercing headache.

_...little, stupids Toki..._

"I'm _not _stupids, Skwisgaar," he whispered to himself, wiping his nose and the fresh tears that were falling from his eyes. Of course he knew that he really was, that the only reason he was staying here at all was because of Pickles' words, which Toki kept repeating to himself again and again. "I gots to prove them wrong, 'cause they _ams _wrong, they ams..."

Truthfully, if there was anyone Toki felt he could trust right now, it would've had to have been Pickles. The drummer didn't seem to have any clue how hard this was for him, but just because Toki thought that he was wrong didn't mean that he hated him or anything. He didn't _dislike _him, not like he disliked Nathan. At the thought Nathan, Toki shuttered and closed his eyes tightly. God, Nathan had made him do bad things—_very _bad things—to be in _Dethklok. _Toki grimaced and swallowed, trying to get the horrible taste out of his mouth...it had been weeks, but he swore it was still there...

"I hates this place, God, I really hates it." he sobbed, nearly falling to his knees in his sudden outburst of emotion. He looked up at the ceiling and cried, "I wants to go home, why can'ts I? 'Cause I gots to prove them wrong, Toki," he said to himself. "I gots to prove them wrong...but maybe they right?"

"Hey ya, Toki?"

His heart turned to ice. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. The voice was clearly recognizable from it's distinct Wisconsin flair. Toki let out a shuttering breath and stood upright again, trying to regain what little composure he had had before. He wiped his nose and face on his arm before saying shakily, "P-Pickle, what ams you doing here?"

"Uh...this is where my room is. Just down 'dis hall. Don't you know?"

Toki shook his head and felt his hands begin to tremble as the drummer came up and stood next to him, his green eyes curiously staring at him. "I...Is got lost..."

"Yeah, it's a big place, I guess."

He nodded quickly and tried to walk away, but Pickles reached out and let his hand fall on Toki's shoulder. "You okay, dude?"

He nodded and wiped his nose again. "Ja, fines." his voice still sounded thick and stopped-up from his crying.

"Oh. Okay, 'den." Pickles said, letting him go. "Want me to show you where your room is before I go to bed?"

"You going to bed already? But Nathans said there was going to bes fan girls and sluts and-"

He shrugged. "Just wanna get high tonight, you know? Girls are sometimes just so much...ugh...'dey just want all your attention and I just wanna get fuckin' high."

"Ja, I guesses so."

The truth was that Toki didn't know. He hadn't gotten high a day in his life, nor had he ever really been with a girl for more than ten minutes or so. Girls generally didn't like him; they told him to grow up, that he was too immature, or, when Toki tried to act more grown-up, that he was too quiet and boring. They may stick around a while because he was fit and had amazing looks, but after a while they became distant and lost interest in him. Pickles could obviously sense Toki's innocence, because he seemed to be trying very hard not to smile.

"Okay, well let's go, I guess."

To the Norwegian's surprise, Pickles actually did walkhim all the way back to his room, which happened to be three floors above his. They didn't talk much, except for when Pickles motioned grandly to Toki's bedroom door and said, "See? It's not that bad, really."

"Ja, not bad, I guess."

"Yeah...so, you gonna be okay?"

He nodded and reached for the doorknob. "Sure."

"Listen..." his voice trailed off, making it clear that he didn't quite know what to say about all of this, so in the end he just gave Toki a little half-smile and said, "See ya in the mornin'?"

"Sures. Goodnights, Pickle."

"Yep."

They stood there, looking away from each other for another long, awkward minute before Toki bit back another sob and launched himself into Pickles' arms, trapping him in a tight hug. The drummer was clearly taken aback by this, and looked up and down the hall to make sure nobody could see him. He stood stiff in Toki's arms, not bothering to hug him back.

"Goodnights." he repeated.

"Uh-huh."

"Thanks you."

And he pulled away and went into his room, looking down at his boots and biting his lip shyly. Pickles stood there for quite a while frowning. He felt a sudden, horrible stab of sympathy for the Norwegian and couldn't help but feel guilty for not hugging him back. The drummer sighed. What the fuck was wrong with him?

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 2, Part 2**

**The Contract**

The next day _Dethklok _was called together for a meeting. As they took their places at the table in the meeting room, Ofdensen entered, his face, as always, gravely serious. "Well, boys," he said, sitting down at the head of the table. "sales are looking quite good. If you want, we can review the records of the past few-"

"Ugghhh," Nathan groaned, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.

"Boooooring." Murderface joined in.

"You ammnest coming very close to puttings me to sleeps, Ofdensen. Cut to chase." Skwisgaar said, rapping the table distractedly with his fingers. His head rested on his hand, and his eyes were half closed. "We ammnest have hangover and short attention span-dest."

Toki just sat in his seat, twisting his long, brown hair distractedly. He sat across from Pickles, looking down. The drummer sighed and added in his own complaint of, "Yeah, dude, seriously, you better hurry up, 'cause I just drank a whole bottle'f tequila, an' I don't know how much langer I'll be able to just sit here."

Ofdensen nodded and reached into the briefcase that he had brought along. He fished out a perfectly white, unwrinkled packet of official-looking papers and handed it to Nathan. "This," he said, pointing to one of five dotted lines at the bottom, "is a contract that you and the rest of _Dethklok _have already signed. Well, you signed one _like _this already, but with the sudden change in guitarists I had to renegotiate a new contract."

Nathan arched a brow. "Huh? Contract? For what?"

The other musicians of _Dethklok—_with the exception of the daydreaming Toki—leaned in closer, trying to read it over the singer's shoulder. Ofdensen watched them with mild discontent and responded, "You all just signed it last week. You know, the Duncan Hills Coffee contract?"

They all groaned. Toki finally snapped out of his daze and looked around. "Huh? What Duncan Hill Coffees contracts for?"

"We had to shign it 'caush they wanted ush to shing a shtupid jingle for it, dildo." Murderface spat, crossing his arms and glaring at the Norwegian. To this, Skwisgaar let out a low chuckle and grinned.

"Ha, ja, 'dey wanted _us _to performs it, Murderface. _You _never writes or dos nothings anyways..."

"Do too!"

"You play bass, idiots. Everyone knows 'dat you get free ride."

"I write my own shtuff!" Murderface protested. "You know I do!"

Skwisgaar shook his head. "No you don'ts, I writes guitar and then figure bass out by myselves."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot."

Pickles sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, so why're you showin' us 'dis if we've already signed it?"

"Because," Ofdensen said, bringing a pen out from his pocket. "Since the addition of Toki in the band, the old contract, the one which Meyer Hamilton sighed, is now officially void."

They all groaned—everyone except Toki, who had utterly lost interest in the conversation—and Nathan asked in an undertone, "Oh, yeah, that sucks, but what does void mean again?"

Ofdensen passed the pen to him. "It means that since Hamilton is no longer with us and Toki has taken his place, in order for us to keep the deal with Duncan Hills Coffee and be able to profit from a jingle, you must all sign this contract again."

"How many pages are 'dere to 'dat again?" Pickles asked, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the writing he was about to do.

"One-hundred and ninety-four point five," Ofdensen said without hesitation. "And that's _after _I got them to slim it down. Here you are, Nathan. Just sign on the dotted line, please."

Nathan nodded and began flipping thru the large packet of papers. "Huh...hey, there's a dotted line on every fucking page!" he looked up and asked, infuriated, "You mean we're supposed to sign _every _one of these fucking pages?"

He nodded. "That is correct."

Everyone groaned and began talking all at once. Murderface jumped out of his seat and went over to Toki, trying to wrap his hands around his neck. "You shtupid dildo! Thish ish all your fault! If Hamilton hadn't quit, then-"

"Hey, leave the guy alone, Murderface!" Pickles warned, also rising to his feet. "It's nat his fuckin' fault!"

"Permits me to-"

"No, Skwisgaar, I'm not gonna permit you to do anything!" he yelled, walking over to Murderface. "Just fuck aff, dude."

He didn't move. "Make me, shit-brain."

"Fuck you."

"Guys, guys!" Ofdensen interjected. "Just calm down and get back in your seats. You all have a lot of writing to do, so let's get on it."

Pickles glared down at the floor and made his way back into his seat, grumbling. The whole rest of the day was spent signing contracts over and over again. In the end, Pickles and Toki were the only ones left in the meeting room. As Pickles finished off the 'r' in his name—_Pickles the drummer—_he threw down the pen and let out a yell of triumph.

"Ha! Done!"

Toki groaned and let his head fall onto the table. His eyes were tired, and as he picked up the pen he let out a little, bored yawn. "Greats. You ams lucky."

Pickles' smile faded as he watched the Norwegian begin to write his name on the dotted lines.

_Toki Wartooth_

_Toki Wartooth_

_Toki Wartooth_

He had large, childish hand writing. It almost made Pickles' signatures look presentable. As the guitarist wrote, he didn't bother to pick up his head, but he did glance over at the drummer and ask, his hand still turning from page to page and signing, "Why you still sittings here?"

"Huh? Oh, you know..."

"Nos, really. Why?"

Pickles shrugged. "I dunno. My mind's just gone, ya know?"

Toki nodded and responded with a simple, "Oh," before returning his gaze to the contracts. Pickles still didn't rise from his chair; instead he listened with a keen ear as the guitarist began whistling a soft tune, quite unlike the death metal songs the drummer was used to. In the middle of this quaint little song, Toki raised his head and stared over at the other man suspiciously.

"Why you staring at me like that? You wants make fun of me or somethings?"

He quickly shook his head. "No way, dude, swear to God. Whistling just relaxes me, that's all."

"Then why don't yous do it?"

" 'Cause I..." Pickles face turned red as he admitted. " 'Cause I can't whistle, okay?"

A broad smile grew on Toki's face as he asked, his hand still signing thoughtlessly, "Reallys? You can play drums but you can't whistle?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

He laughed. "That pretty funny, Pickle."

He shrugged. "Guess it is." But he really didn't see how it was funny at all.

There was a moment of silence, one where Toki looked down and tried to focus himself on his work again. After another two minutes straight of watching him, Pickles rose to his feet silently, and walked over to him. The Norwegian barley took notice of him, however, until he bent down and wrapped his arms around him. Then, only when Pickles was holding him so tightly that he couldn't write, did the guitarist look up, his pale blue eyes shining brightly.

"Pickle, what ams you doing?" he was smiling and he asked the question playfully. Pickles felt his face grow hot and ended the awkward hug, but Toki shook his head, got to his feet, and grabbed his arms. "No, looks, you dos it wrong, stupid."

"I...huh?"

"You gots to go like _this._" Toki guided the drummer's arms around him again and let his head rest on the other man's shoulder. "This ams real hug, Pickle, not stupids, dildos one."

Pickles grinned a little at this and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

He hugged Toki like this for quite a while, his arms wrapped warmly over the guitarist's shoulders. Pickles was only a little bit embarrassed by this horrible display of emotion, but he let it happen because he knew that nobody came in the meeting room unless it was unavoidably necessary. So he stood there, hugging Toki, until the guitarist pulled away and planted a little kiss on his cheek. Pickles recoiled at this and wiped at his face, cursing.

"Gad damn it, Toki, what the fuck was _that?"_

He stared at him in a puzzled way. "What was whats?"

"You just _kissed _me, dildo!"

"Oh, you knows! In Norway we hugs and kisses a lots to shows, you knows, just good feelings. Like between friends or somethings." Toki said simply, sitting back down in his chair and turning back to the contract. He picked up the pen and said, "Not big deal. You don't gots to be so weird abouts it."

Pickles gave him a little half-smile and said, "Oh. So even guys do it to each other?"

Toki nodded. "Ja, just how we say hellos."

He chuckled. " 'Dat's pretty gay, Toki."

The Norwgian shrugged. "Guess things ams different here, is all. Sorrys. Didn't mean to makes you feel like homo or anything."

"I dunno...if you have to, just stick to the hugging part, 'kay?"

Another nod and, "Ja."

There was a moment of silence before Toki sighed, laid down his pen, and jumped up. He gave Pickles one last, quick hug and said gratefully, "Thanks so much, Pickle." and then he sat down and started signing again, like it was nothing. Pickles just stood there feeling numb.

"Yeah, okay. For what?"

"Beings my friend."

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 2, Part 3**

**Winter Solstice **

That night, after drinking enough to make him pass out, Pickles had an odd dream. He was in a white void of nothingness, but as he opened his eyes flecks of gray became clear—the sky. He was laying down on something so soothingly warm and looking up a gray and gloomy sky as it snowed. Flecks of white stood out in his red hair as he sat up and shook himself. Snow. He was surrounded by it.

Snow and tall, ageless, ancient trees.

The dull ball of diluted sun that could manage to penetrate the thick ozone of clouds brought a chill into the drummer's bones, and was the color of egg yolk. Pickles looked around. There wasn't much. Nothing but an old, blurred sign half buried in the snow that read something along the lines of _Lillehammer._

Pickles couldn't make sense of this, so he shakily got to his feet and hugged himself. He was so cold...so freezing...but it wasn't the snow. The snow was so goddamned warm and wonderful, but the sun was killing him, turning him to ice. Pickles stumbled a few steps, closing his eyes and trying to blindly to get thru the flurries of white snow. The flakes hit him hard, like hale, cutting him and making him curse under his breath.

Once he could manage to open his eyes a crack, he saw that he was surrounded by trees, and far off there was a house. As soon as he laid his green eyes on the little house, he felt his legs give way and in a second he was face down in the snow, but he could hear something now...an echoing, distant voice, oddly accented and nearly impossible to understand. It was so muddled, so confusing that amidst the foreignness of it, all Pickles could hear was one word:

"Toki!"

"What?"

The question arose from his own mouth now, and as he raised his head he found that he was laying a ways away from the door of the house. As the snow fell around Pickles, he watched as the door flung open, was nearly ripped from the old, rusted hinges. A boy came stumbling out into the snow and fell to his knees, crying.

Pickles couldn't see his face nor could he see the face of the man who walked out after the boy. All he could make out was that he was a tall man, cloaked in black. He spoke in a foreign language, of that Pickles was sure. What little he could understand echoed in his brain and gave him a headache...

"Stupid!"

"Useless!"

"_Toki..."_

"Disgrace!"

"_...Toki..."_

"Toki?" Pickles didn't realize it, but he was speaking now, nearly sobbing. He gripped his head, trying to get the echoing voice of the man out of it, trying to make the headache go away as he bellowed, "Fuckin' Toki? Toki, what the fuck is this? Toki?"

"Toki, help me..." He began silently sobbing, his tears melting the snow around him. "...Toki, what the fuck is wrong with me?"

He awoke sweating and shaking horribly, laying face-down on the cold floor of his room. Pickles wrinkled his nose as he smelled vomit; it surrounded him in disgusting pools. He crawled over to his bed and pulled himself up. The drummer's head still pounded as he got to his feet and looked down. The floor of his room was covered in his sickness and empty bottles of booze. Upon seeing this, he shuttered and fell onto the bed, struggling to gain control of himself.

All he could do—all he had the energy to do—was repeat, "T-Toki, what the fuck is wrong with us? Huh? Toki, how we gonna get better?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3, Part 1**

**Small Favors**

The next morning when Pickles awoke, Toki wasn't at the breakfast table. Instead of showing up on time to eat, he arrived, ravished and looking for food, at 1 o'clock. When he discovered that everyone was sitting in the living room and watching T.V., he went over to Nathan handed him a crumpled note and plopped down on the floor, next to Skwisgaar, who was sitting on the couch above him looking quite bored. As soon as the Swede saw Toki, though, his face lit up and he nudged him with his foot and grinned.

"Tokis? Hey, Tooooookkkki?"

"Ja?" he asked, looking up. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his hair was wild and unbrushed, making it clear he was not only unconcerned with what Skwisgaar had to say, but also exhausted. This fact was only made clearer when he let out a large yawn and asked, "What you want, Skwisgaar?"

"You wasn't at breakfast this mor-"

"What the fuck is this?" Nathan asked as he finished reading the note Toki had given to him. He rose to his feet and held up the paper. "Who the fuck wrote this?"

Pickles reached for it. "Why? What does it say?"

Honestly he was just plain curious about Toki after last night. He hadn't had a great morning either, and he was still tired from the night before. Tired from the hangover the booze had left him with and the horrible weakness the dream had put into his body. Nathan let him have it before turning to Skwisgaar, who had proceeded to use Toki's shoulder as a footrest for his dirty boots.

"You wrote that piece of shit, dildo?"

Pickles read the note, frowning. It said in the clear, broken English and bold writing of Skwisgaar:

_Dear Tokis,_

_I ammnest just haves been thoughts that you should know dat at _

_9 is when breakfast is served for the REAL musicians._

_Since you really is not a REAL musician or parts of this band,_

_I thoughts we'd let you sleep in and skips breakfast since you ain't_

_wants to eat yesterday anyways. Anyways, hopes you wasn't hungry or nothing._

_When you decide to let real musician take your place, I may let you eats piece of_

_breads or somethings before we kicks you outs of Mordhaus._

_Until you quits or I kicks out out of band,_

_~~SKWISGAAR SKWIGELF_

_[REAL guitarist]_

Once he was done reading, he stared over at Toki, whose hands were in his lap. The Norwegian was staring off at nothing, his pale blue eyes utterly empty. As Nathan grabbed Skwisgaar by a handful of his hair, Toki said dully, "I hungry. Can't I just goes in kitchen and-"

"What the fuck was that?" Nathan demanded. Skwisgaar just let out a laugh and kicked Toki as hard as he could in the back of the head before the singer had a chance to throw him to the ground.

Toki just let out a shocked and pained yelp and fell face-first into a coffee table, busting his mouth squarely on the corner of it. He fell onto the ground nearly sobbing and gripping his bleeding mouth, crying, "Ows! Shits, I hits my stupid fuckings—SHIT!"

Nathan barley gave him notice. He was too busy yelling at Skwisgaar. "You stupid dick! I fucking told you to be nice to him! I fucking _told _you!"

Skwisgaar just got to his feet, shrugged, and dusted himself off. "Why you care so much, huh? We all knows he ammnest not goings to last, so why you care?"

"Yeah," Murderface agreed, watching Toki writhe, smiling. "It'sh fucking funny."

"No," Pickles spoke up, suddenly getting to his feet. "No it's fucking nat. It's nat funny at all, you asshole. Look at him! He busted his face up and you're still are actin' like a dick!"

"We all agrees," Skwisgaar said, crossing his arms. " 'Dat we wouldn't cares about each other or get into personal lives-ses, so why you two cares so much abouts him? Huh? What so special about stupid, useless Toki?"

All at once, Pickles' dream came flooding back to him, and the voice of the man from the nightmare came back to him as well, yelling in that foreign language all over again. He felt horrible, nauseated. Sick. The yelling didn't stop—_wouldn't _stop—no matter how much he silently begged it to, and not knowing what else to do, Pickles fell to his knees, feeling what little strength he had leave him.

Nathan stared over at him, a brow arched. "Pickles, you okay?"

He shook his head and said in a slurred voice, "Na-ah, I got a real bad heada—headac-" suddenly he was hunched over and puking up the little food he had eaten for breakfast. Everyone watched this with mixtures of amusement and disgust—everyone except Toki, who just tried to act invisible. When Pickles was done, he closed his eyes tightly, trying not to repeat what else he had done last night—crying and yelling out Toki's name.

The Norwegian watched him and said softly, "I...I thinks I needs eat."

"Okay, yeah," Nathan said. All of his anger seemed to have become lost to him as he helped Toki to his feet and pointed to the door. "Fine. Pickles, do you think you can eat? Are you hungry or something, you sick motherfucker?"

"I...I—oh, Gad...I'll go with him." he said, getting shakily to his feet and stumbling to the door. "Gotta get me some more vadka anyways..."

He went out the door, Toki following close behind, staring at him oddly. "Pickle, you oka-"

"Toki, look. I'm not trying to be mean or nothin', but I really had a bad night, and now all I taste is puke, and I have a really bad headache, so could you just—wait, Toki?" a question had popped into his head, one that he couldn't ignore. Though he hadn't been able to see anyone in his dream, he was sure that Toki had been there...somehow...

The Norwegian asked kindly, "Ja?"

"Where'd you live in Norway? Ya know, 'fore you came here."

"I...oh..." he swallowed and said almost painfully, "Lillehammer."

Pickles felt his heart drop. "Uh-huh. And where'd you live? Like in a house or-"

"I—why you care so much?" Toki's tone was suddenly hostile, and as Pickles became silent he looked down and answered sheepishly, "Little, wood house. Lots of trees-es and stuff arounds it, you know."

"Snow too?"

He nodded. "Ja, and sometimes when it snow, if you been outsides for long time, so long you start shiverings and your fingers go numb and your skin turns-es a little blue, the snows actually feels _warm," _Toki recollected, smiling a little at his old childhood memories. His lost, dead memories. "And when you looks up, sun ams so small and worthless-lookings it almost seems makes you colder. Makes you feel like nothings, almost."

Pickles felt a lump forming in his throat as he nodded. "Uh-huh. What else?"

Suddenly the guitarist was hesitant. His old shyness was returning to him now as he said, "I...I don'ts know. I don't wants to talk abouts it, only eat and go back to slee—hey, Pickle?"

"Huh?"

"I...I woke up last nights and it was real dark...I sort of-"

"What, Toki?"

The Norwegian turned a little red as he said, "-forgots where I was. I gots real scared, and...I was wonderings if...maybes I could sleeps in your room tonights?"

Pickles sighed. "Gad, Toki, I dunno..."

"Please, just for tonights. I promise!"

He shook his head, wanting to say no, but found himself saying instead, "Yeah, I guess. Can't hurt nothin'."

Toki let out a grateful sigh and wrapped his arms around the drummer's neck, saying gleefully, "Gods, thanks you so fucking much, Pickle!"

"It's fine. You're cool, I guess."

"Reallys? You mean we-"

"Toki, if you say it and ruin it, 'den-"

"-we friends?"

He rolled his eyes and pulled Toki off of him. "God damn it, I said don't ruin it."

"We friends?" he repeated.

Though he knew it was strictly against band rules to admit any form of friendship and affection towards anyone, Pickles nodded. "Yeah, I guess we are."

Toki followed him into the kitchen and found himself a place to sit down. The drummer went over to the fridge and got himself a bottle of booze then turned to Toki. "Whadda want?"

"You mean I can have whatevers?"

"Sure, I guess," Pickles responded with a shrug. "As long as I can cook it."

He grinned. "You can cook?"

"I guess so. Sure, why the fuck not?"

"I wants some—oh, I knows! In Norway once I tried this really goods stuff that was like sweet ice. Like snows, only betters."

"Like ice cream or somethin'?"

He nodded and responded sweetly, "Ja, I thinks that was it. Taste like chocolate."

"Okay, ice cream. Right." Pickles said as he went over and looked in the freezer.

He didn't know why, but he really did want to serve Toki. Maybe it was because he felt as though no matter how stupid he looked or how badly he messed up, Toki wouldn't think any less of him. Pickles liked that. He didn't feel like a fool at all when he was with him, so he didn't call any stupid Klokateers to get the ice cream. He dug it out of the freezer himself and worked to scoop it out. Toki watched him and as he was handed a a bowl of chocolate and strawberry ice cream, he frowned.

"What the pink stuffs?"

"Oh, 'dat?" Pickles asked, pointing to the strawberry flavor. " 'Dat's strawberry. Ain't you never had strawberry ice cream before?"

Toki knitted his brow together and shook his head. "Sta-herry? Nos, I haves never had none of that before. In Norway we just haves a lot of herring. You ever had herring?"

He shook his head and sat next to the guitarist, eating his ice cream straight out of the carton. "Nope. It's like fish, though, right?"

"Ja," the Norwegian said, nodding and eating a little bit of the pink ice cream. Once he had swallowed, he let out a little laugh and said, "Wowee, this stuff ams _good! _We don't haves none of this stuff in Norway!" he ate the rest eagerly, savoring every rich and sweet bite. "Almost better than pickle herring." he nudged the drummer and asked happily, "You ever had any of that before? Pickle herring?"

Pickles shook his head and said thru a mouthful of chocolate ice cream, "Nah, never even heard of it. Is it good or somethin'?"

"Good?" Toki repeated. "It ams the best."

"So what? It's like your favorite or somethin'?"

"Oh, yeah, it's really good." he sighed and then looked down at his spoon. He didn't speak for a moment, and when he finally did he sounded a little downcast. "It's good. Everyone in Norway likes it."

Pickles swallowed and frowned. "Hey, Toki?"

"Huh?" he asked, looking into the drummer's green eyes.

"You miss Norway, don't ya?"

"Ja," he admitted. "I really dos." then he stared into his empty bowl and yawned. "I tired. I didn't gets much sleep last nights."

"Neither did I." Pickles said, eating some more ice cream. He offered the carton to Toki. "Want some more?"

He shook his head and said, "No thanks you. But anyways, why can't you sleep?"

"Huh?"

"Why can'ts you been sleeping last nights?"

"I...uh..."

"I can't sleep 'cause I just don'ts like this place," Toki said, rubbing his stomach. He licked his lips and looked around. "Hey, Pickle?" he was speaking offhandedly now. "Do you thinks—never mind. It ams stupid."

A small grin spread across the drummer's face as he punched Toki lightly on his shoulder. "C'mon, what is it?"

"Could you dos me favor?"

"Sure. Depends on what it is, but-"

"Herring, could yous make Klokateers gets me some?"

"I...sure," he said, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess. What kind? I really don't know how it comes, but-"

"Any kind—pickle, raw, dry. I don'ts care. I eats it all."

Pickles chuckled and asked, "Raw? You eat _raw _fish?"

Toki nodded. "Ja, it ams really good. You should try some."

"Yeah, yum...raw fish." and he added disgustedly, "Just Ma like back home on Tomahawk..."

"Your moms used to cooks herr-"

"Toki, I'm only kiddin'. God."

He laughed and said delightedly, "Wowee, Pickle, you ams really great! You really gonna get me some? Huh?"

The drummer nodded. "Yeah, sure. We'll get you some stupid, douchebag herring if you want it."

The Norwegian jumped up from his seat and hugged him. "Thanks, Pickle! Really! I owes you big favor!"

"Yeah," Pickles said, trying to squirm out of the hug. Hugging in the kitchen was a bit too obvious...if someone walked in on him right now, they'd never let him live it down. "Look, it's fine, just chill out." Toki let him go and plopped back down in his seat, smiling gleefully. He scooped another spoonful of ice cream out of the carton and ate it, humming. Pickles watched this and finally said, "See? Toki, look."

The Norwegian looked up, a questioning look in his pale blue eyes. "Huh, Pickle?"

"It's gonna be okay, alright? You don't need to quit or nothin', right?"

Toki thought for a moment then grinned. "No, I ain'ts never gonna quit. Thanks, Pickle."

"Sure," he said, turning a little red. "No prablem."

And he reached over and opened up the bottle of booze he had gotten earlier. He took a deep sip from it then sighed, feeling content—something he hadn't felt in a long time.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 3, Part 2**

**Little Piece Of Home**

Later that night the Klokateers announced that they had gone to a store and purchased all of the herring they had in stock for little Toki. Upon hearing this, Skwisgaar let out a groan and let his head fall into his hands despairingly. "God damns it! I already eats enough of 'dat shit in Sweden! Toki, why the hells you ammnest wantings _'dat _crap to have been eatings tonight?"

Toki had responded to this with a shrug and, "It ams my favorite."

"I'd rather eat snow," the Swede insisted. He gave the Norwegian a smug, sideways glance and said, "But I'm sure that yous haves eaten plenty of snows. Your families was poor trash, huh Tokis?"

This made Pickles want to jump up and punch him right in his face, but Toki's reaction to these harsh words stopped him. The guitarist just grinned and said, putting some of his long, brown hair behind his ears, "Lot richer than your parents-es, I sure, Skwisgaar. At least my mom ams not stupids, Swedish slut."

Everyone had laughed at this, even Murderface. "Ha! That'sh funny, 'caushe Shkwishgaar'sh mom ish a whore!"

Nathan rolled his eyes and growled, "Murderface, just shut the fuck up; the dumb joke's not funny if you explain it, idiot."

And so dinner came. Toki sat next to Pickles, and as soon as the chef placed the plate of pickled herring in front of him, he took a large bite, smiled, and put some on the drummer's plate. "You try?"

He shook his head, staring at the fish with disgust. It looked half raw. "No, really. I'm goo-"

"Pickle, you promises me..."

The drummer sighed and picked up his fork. "Yeah, fine, fine." he bit his lip as he stabbed at the fish. Before opening his mouth he let out a little, "Fuck it." and ate it all in one bite. Toki watched this and laughed. Pickles' face was overtaken by a look of a mixture of sickness and confusion as he struggled to swallow the fish.

"You likes it?"

The drummer shook his head. "Sorry, Toki, but honestly I'd rather it if I just stuck to my hot dogs and you stuck to your stupid fish."

"You funny, Pickle."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Hilarious."

Truth be told, the herring really didn't taste bad, just like normal fish. The drummer didn't like fish, though, so he thought it quite disgusting and was grateful to resume dousing his hot dog in mustard and ketchup before eating it in a few bites. Of course he put a few dill pickles on it. He knew it was ironic, but he liked pickles on just about everything—except herring.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 3, Part 3**

**Breaking Boundaries**

After dinner Pickles lead Toki up to his room, but not before stopping by the Norwegian's room to get his teddy. Once Toki stepped into the drummer's room, his eyes grew wide. "Wowee," he said. "You sure do gots big bed."

"And you don't?"

He shook his head and went to sit down on it. "Nope. I gots single ones."

"Oh." was all Pickles could think to say as he watched Toki take off his boots and begin to remove his shirt. What he saw really pissed him off.

After all of the stupid ice cream and the pounds of herring Toki had eaten, it didn't show in his figure. He seemed to be made of pure muscle, but not so much that it was sick. Just enough to be considered nice. Pickles began chewing his lip and sat down on the edge of the bed, ignoring the Norwegian's curious glance.

"Hey, Pickle?"

"Huh?"

"Ain't you gonna gets ready for-"

"I'm ready."

He smiled. "You sleeps in _that?"_

The drummer nodded. "Yep, all the time. Never take it aff."

Toki laughed. "Even your shoes?"

"Shut up!" Pickles said, also smiling as he threw a pillow at the guitarist. Toki caught it and hit him over the head with it, grinning.

"Ha, yous fun, Pickle."

"Yeah, I know. Alright then, hold on."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and took off his shirt and his shoes and socks, then laid down on the bed in an effort to seem slimmer. He certainly wasn't fat, but all of the booze he always drank didn't do him any favors. In fact, it had started to give him a little bit of a gut, a pudge that hung just over his jeans. Pickles tried to hide this, and generally did a good job at it, but now he felt his face turning red as Toki stared at him.

"Ha," Toki finally said, poking at Pickles' pudgy stomach and smiling. "You fat."

"Don't touch me! I am _not _fat!" he said, slapping away the guitarist's hands. Toki recoiled and frowned a little, laying back on the bed as well.

"Wowee, I ams only kidding, Pickle. It not bad thing."

"What ain't a bad thing?"

"That you pudgy."

"I am not-"

"You knows it 'cause you drinks so much."

"Don't tell me what to do!" the drummer warned.

Toki looked up at him and challenged, "Or whats?"

"Or I'll fuckin' kill you!" Pickles yelled, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over the Norwegian's face, ignoring the laughter that was rising from his throat. "Dumb German!"

"I ams not German, I-"

"Don't matter, douchebag, I'm still gonna-"

"Pickle, Pickle! Let's go! I can't breathe!"

"Oh, shit," he said, immediately pulling away. "Sorry, dude, sorry. I didn't mean to-"

But Toki was hugging himself, laughing so hard that his face was turning red. The drummer didn't know why, but he began laughing too, until he couldn't breathe. Only then did he stop, reach over, grab a bottle of vodka from his nightstand, and take a large swallow from it. Toki watched him, still trying to regain his breath.

"You got really scareds."

"Shut up." he said, drinking some more.

"No, you reallys did."

"Shut it, Toki." then he glanced over at the Norwegian, watched as his muscular frame inhaled and exhaled, and frowned. "Hey ya, Toki?"

"Ja?"

"You really think I shouldn't drink so much? I wish I didn't, but it's just so damn _good, _y'know?" the drummer began rapping his fingers on his stomach as he put the bottle to his lips again. He knew he shouldn't care so much, that caring wasn't brutal, but he couldn't help it. Toki was really the only person who had ever cared enough to comment on his excessive drinking. The others mentioned it, but only in mockery, when he was slurring and staggering around and at his worst.

"Looks, it's fine, reallys." Toki said, shrugging. Pickles let him reach over, grab the remote, and switch on the T.V. That hung on the wall in front of them. The Norwegian paused and switched it to some stupid cartoon before saying, "At least you not like _me."_

Pickles scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me? Toki, everyone wants to be like you."

The Norwegian frowned and stared scornfully down at his flat, muscular stomach. "What you mean? I hates it. I'm too—ugh. Just toos much, you knows?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Truthfully, Pickles actually had no earthly clue what Toki meant, but he still acted like he did anyway. Besides, as the guitarist poked at his stomach again and said, "You nice. Not like mes." it made him feel better.

"Well, you shouldn't complain," the drummer insisted, slapping Toki's hands away from him again. "Hey, stop 'dat! I ain't no fuckin' pillow!"

"Sorrys." he said, looking down. There was a moment of silence before Toki added, "I don'ts likes mes—you knows, my stomach, neither."

"Yeah, well, I don't like mine, so I guess we're even."

He nodded. "I guess we is."

They both grew silent as Spongebob came on the television. Pickles sighed and rolled his eyes in a quiet way of showing his discontent. Toki noticed and changed the channel to something else begrudgingly. He flipped thru every single channel twice before finally cursing and throwing the remote down so hard that the back flew off and the two batteries popped out. Pickles looked over at Toki after this display of anger, a pierced brow raised.

"Toki, what-"

"Fucks this!" he yelled, inhaling sharply, trying very hard not to cry as he sat up. "Fucks it..."

Pickles swallowed and nudged his shoulder lightly. "Hey, Toki? What's-"

"I don't understands it, Pickle."

"Don't understand what?"

His pale blue eyes met the drummer's blazing green ones as he said, his voice full of desperation, "Anythings they say! It all like ramblings!"

"Oh. You mean 'cause 'dey speak English?"

Toki nodded and let his head fall into his hands. "Ja, it really hard, 'cause half the times I been here I don't knows what anyone say. Like when I sign the con-hact I-"

"You mean the contract?"

The guitarist nodded again. "Ja, that. When I signs it, I only knows what to do 'cause I seen you and everyone else dos it—I can't understand word that man in the suits say."

Pickles frowned. "Oh, Gad. I'm really sorr-"

"I'm so tireds of being confused-ded." Toki admitted, falling back onto the mattress and closing his eyes. Pickles did the same, only instead of shutting his eyes, he reached over and, not really knowing what else to do, squeezed Toki's shoulder.

"It'll get better."

"Hows you know?"

"Just trust me. Go to sleep."

"Buts I-"

"Shut up," he said, smiling a little and crawling under the covers. "Shut up and go to sleep."

Toki nodded and whispered, " 'Kay." but before rolling over and closing his eyes he said, "Pickle, why yous understands me so well? Why I know what you say so good?"

"Huh?" he asked.

"I don't get what everyone else say, buts I always haves been understandings you. Why you thinks that is?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, Toki."

"Oh. And Pickle?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry I broke your remotes."

Pickles grinned and said, "It's fine. 'Night."

And he reached over and switched off his light, but not before taking one last sip from the bottle of vodka.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 3, Part 4**

**The Scars Of Never Letting Go**

That night Pickles was trapped in the same dream as the night before, only this time he knew clearly who was being shouted at. It was almost like magic. Suddenly he could hear and understand any word of the Norwegian language, and this when the boy came staggering out the house and the man followed, shouting at him, Pickles understood ever word.

Every single horrible, tortuous word.

_Get out of here, _the cloaked man said. _You stupid, useless-_

_But Dad, I'm sorry. I promise I won't make another mistake..._

_Don't call me 'Dad'. _

_But-_

_I want you to leave, you piece of trash. You are no son of mine, and you are certainly not any part of this family._

The boy was crying as he said, his words slurring together amidst his tears, _I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. __I-_

And the door to the house was slammed in his face, but not before the father had said in his cold, unnerving voice, _Toki Wartooth, you do not know anything and you certainly don't know what love is. You are useless. You have no place here or anywhere else. You'd be better off dead._

Pickles shook his head and repeated to himself, "Dead? What the fuck..."

What had they been fighting about to evoke such horrible words? The drummer didn't know, but what he had heard was enough. He was falling again, hugging himself, freezing to death in the warm snow that was falling onto his bare arms and skin...

"Toki," he sobbed, covering his face with his hands. "T-Toki, please don't listen to him...Toki, wake me up, please. Don't leave me like this, help me...Toki? Toki?"

"Pickle?" He blinked and began rubbing his eyes as the sweet, half-asleep voice of the Norwegian repeated, "Pickle, you okay? Wakes up, Pickle, wakes up."

He shook himself and opened his eyes with a groan. Toki was standing above him, his brown hair messy and wild. His eyes were half open, clearly still thinking of a sleep he couldn't have. As soon as Pickles saw him, the drummer swallowed and brought his hands to his face, covering his own exhausted, green eyes.

"T-Toki?"

"Ja?"

The drummer looked up, peered into his eyes. "Why'd you wake me up?"

Toki's face was confused as he said, "Pickle, I was—you was screamings."

"I...what?"

"You say, 'Toki, wakes me up, please', and sos I did." he frowned and sat down on the floor next to Pickles. "You not having good dream?"

"I..." he shook his head and said, "No, just go back to sleep."

He intended for that to be the end of it, but as Toki rose to his feet and turned around, Pickles' eyes grew wide. The guitarist's back was covered in scars. They were deep, visible and seeming to glow against the skin of Toki's back as he retreated back to his side of the bed and crawled beneath the covers. The drummer sat up immediately and switched on the lamp.

Roughly, he pushed Toki out of the bed and instructed, "Turn around for me."

The Norwegian's eyes showed a dull fear as he asked, "What? Whys?"

"Just do it. I wanna see somethin'."

"Buts I—why? There ain't nothings to-"

"Toki, please."

The guitarist bit his lip and turned around, his hands nervously twisting handfuls of his long hair. Pickles shook his head as the scars became visible in the light of the lamp. They crisscrossed and zigzagged the whole of Toki's back, all subtle pearl colors or deep purple. All of them were old, but some weren't as faded as the rest. Despite himself, Pickles reached out and ran his hand across the Norwegian's back lightly, his mouth agape.

As his fingertips grazed the scarred flesh, Toki jumped away and whirled around, his face red and his eyes shining brightly with tears. "Don'ts touch it!" he sniffled a little and added in a small, quivering voice, "Still hurt."

"No," he said in a shaking voice. "No, Toki, scars don't hurt."

"Mines do."

Pickles closed his eyes, trying to get the horrible dream and images of the scars out of his brain. He managed to say thru his shock, "Toki, what happened to you?"

"I don't knows what you mean." he said, reaching down on the floor and grabbing his blue shirt. The drummer took the shirt from him and ripped it away, shaking his head. He didn't know what to do. He just wished suddenly that he'd told Toki to sleep in his own room,because this was beginning to be to much. To much for him to understand, to much for him to process. It took all of his energy to even speak. God, he was tired.

"Look, I'm...I'm sorry, but who did 'dis to you?"

The Norwegian's pale blue eyes began leaking tears as he replied, his voice wavering, "I dids it...to myself..."

"Toki, I'm not gonna tell. I swear to God. Where'd you get all the scars from?" Pickles had never wanted so badly in his life to help someone, to hear what they had to say. He hung on to each and every one of Toki's words as if they were pure spun gold, desperate to relieve him of the obvious pain he was in.

"I tolds you, I dids it to myself, okays? I make mistakes, and I deserves it! I...I..." his voice was breaking suddenly. He opened his mouth and his Adam's apple bobbed madly as he tried to talk, but no words came out. Finally he sat down on the bed and sobbed, "I can'ts tell you! No matters what! I dids it, I really did!"

"Toki, don't you dare bullshit me!" Pickles said, scooting closer to him and nudging him a little, trying to bring him back to reality. "Look, you can believe me, I swear to-"

"Sometimes I makes mistakes, before I lefts home." Toki said. He was speaking quickly, wanting so badly to get it off his chest. "My parents-es, they haves me do stuffs and when I fucks it up, they hurts mes real bads. Someitmes I just wish I was dead. You don'ts know how close I was, Pickle. How close I was to just quittings it..."

"Quitin' what?"

"Everythings."

There was a heavy pause. One in which Toki gave himself a minute or two to full on cry and wrap his arms around himself in a sheer act of self defense against the drummer's questions and prying eyes. Only then did Pickles dare scoot closer to him and reach out. He held the Norwegian tightly, trying to give him a hug. Trying to make it better. "Sorry, Toki. I didn't mean to make you cry, I didn't. Just forget it. If you don't wanna, you don't gotta talk."

"I always fucks it all up," he kept repeating. "Fucks it up, that's alls I do...stupid Tokis always fuck it up..."

"Toki, shut up." Pickles whispered softly. The guitarist began shaking in the drummer's arms, his crying beginning to take an irreversible hold on him. He could barley speak.

"I forgots they were there—the scars. You wasn't supposed to see."

"It's fine."

"You hates me?"

"No."

Toki found it in himself to let out a little chuckle amidst his open sobs. "Pickle, you happy I in band?"

He thought about it for a moment then nodded. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"That ams good...'cause you knows what?"

"Huh?"

"Secretlys I really ams scared to get sent back to Norway—to go back to my parents. They kicks me out. They saids really bad things..."

"Toki, listen, I dreamed about you." Pickles said. He knew he shouldn't tell Toki—he knew he shouldn't tell _anyone _about it—but he did anyway. Because Toki deserved to know. Toki deserved so many things. "I know what they said and it's all bullshit. You're not stupid and you're not worthless and-"

"I deserves to be dead?"

"N-No," he said, trying not to cry himself. "Nah, you don't." when Toki didn't speak, he added, "Listen, you ain't gonna quit, right?"

He felt him shake his head and heard him whisper, "Nos, never."

"Toki, you ain't trash. You know 'dat, right?"

There was a long pause then, "Sures. Whatever you say."

Then he let Toki go and slapped him lightly on the cheek, once again trying to get his attention. "Look," he said kindly. "Toki, look at me." the Norwegian met his gaze, sniffling. Pickles said, "Okay, look, I'm sorry. I'm a dick, okay? Just forget it."

"It fine, Pickle."

"No, it's not, Toki. Trust me, it's not."

He shrugged. "It's fine, reallys. It ams just stupids me, Pickle. My stupids fuck up. You wasn't supposed to knows; nobody knows. Not even Nathans. Don't tells him, please. Even though he ams already sees it, he don't knows why they there..."

Pickles frowned. "Wait, hold up. Nathan's already seen the scars?"

Toki faltered and opened his mouth, then closed it again. His cheeks were flaming as he looked away and admitted, "Uh...ja, he dids."

"Huh? What the fuck? You showed him or somethin'?"

He shook his head and said quietly, with much shame, "Nos, other reasons..."

The way his voice trailed off made Pickles' stomach twist. "I...uh...Toki, what the fuck happened between you and him?"

Toki bit his lip and responded simply, "Looks, I hads to dos it or he saids I couldn't be in _Dethklok..._"

"Toki, Gad, what'd he make you do?"

He leaned close and whispered into the drummer's ear. "He saids I can't tell 'cause it would makes him gay or somethings..."

Pickles' eyes grew wide. "Huh?"

"He makes me suck hims dick."

The words echoed in the room long after Toki had said them. The drummer shook his head and breathed, "What? You mean he made you-"

"Pickle, I _really _hads to get out of Norway before I kills myself...no matter whats, I had to get out..."

He swallowed and asked in a disgusted whisper, "You mean he-"

"Ja."

"-made you-"

Toki nodded. "Ja."

"-suck his _dick?"_

"Ja."

He began laughing madly, repeating, "Nathan Explosion made a fucking _dude _suck his _dick!"_

Toki's hand covered the drummer's mouth. He shook his head and said, "Looks, you can't tells anyone. He saids if I tells, I get kicked out of bands!"

Pickles shook his head and slapped Toki on the shoulder. "Toki, look, he can't kick you out. It'd take a majority vo...yeah, you should just keep 'dat to yourself, then."

It had been decided a long time ago that if anyone wanted to kick another person out of the band, it would be put to a vote, and when it came to that, if Nathan wanted Toki out, he could get him out. Skwisgaar and Murderface would inevitably be on his side, so no matter how Pickles voted it really wouldn't make much of a difference.

He grinned at this and said lightheartedly, "Look, I'm not into that shit, but sometimes I guess you just have to do what you gotta do, right? I mean, you wouldn't wanted to have done 'dat on your _own, _right?"

Toki shook his head. "Gods, no. It's disgusting."

"Good. So just to be clear and everything, you're not gay, right?"

"Nos, no way!"

"Huh. Okay, 'den." he switched the lamp back off. "Alright, then. I guess we should just go to bed. Oh, and by the way, tomorrow the Klokateers are brinin' in some groupies, and since I haven't fucked anything for a few days straight, I'm gonna need for you to sleep in your own room, 'kay?"

"Okays. This ams only was supposed to be for tonights anyway."

"Good. 'Cuase the thing is that I'm _really _fuckin' horny, and-"

"Pickle, please. I don'ts know where this ams going, but don't make me suck your dick, too."

Pickles laughed and shook his head in the darkness. "No fuckin' way, but just—you know, maybe you should start spendin' more time with Skwisgaar. After all, he's the one who writes your music, so tomorrow I could take you to his room to get a few songs that you could practice or somethin'..."

"Oh, ja, woulds you?"

"Sure."

Toki let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank Gods for you, Pickle. That ams really good, because I was scareds to do it myself."

"Toki, you ain't gotta be scared of Skwisgaar. He's a dildo."

"Rights. Well, anyways, goodnights, Pickle. And thanks."

"For what?"

The guitarist hesitated before saying, "Everythings."

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

****A/N****

**I am editing Chapter 3-5 half sick. I'm literally struggling not to fall asleep at my keyboard, so cut me a break if it reads oddly. Please tell me if you see any spelling/grammatical errors. I appreciate it. **

**~~the Last Flowerchild **

**[Peace & Love]**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4, Part 1**

**Slowly Falling**

The next morning Pickles was awoken by the sound of breaking glass. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Toki, what'd you break?"

"I sorry, Pickle, I reallys am..."

"Oh, shit," he said before he had even opened his eyes. Once he had, he wished that he could just go back to bed again. Toki was standing in the open doorway, holding—or _trying _to hold, anyway—a gallon of milk and two bowls of half-spilled cereal. Milk was running all down the Norwegian's bare chest and arms, and as the drummer sat there watching him, his mouth agape, another bowl slipped and fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

Two broken glass cups were at Toki's feet amidst pools of bright, cheerful orange juice. Pickles fell back into the pillows and bellowed, "Toki, what the fuck'd you do?"

"I wants to fix you breakfast."

"Why the livin' _fuck _would you wanna do 'dat?"

Toki shrugged and said timidly, " 'Cause you ams having been really nice to me."

Pickles let out another groan and rolled out of the bed. He went over, grabbed his shirt, and knelt down, trying to pick up the glass from the cups and mop up the orange juice. "As much as I'd like to just utterly kick your ass right now, I appreciate it." he said, looking up. "Thanks."

"You're welcome!" Toki chimed, grinning proudly as he stepped over Pickles and placed the dripping bowls of cereal on the bed. The drummer watched him do this and frowned.

"Toki, you fuck everything up, don't you?"

His faced flamed as he responded, "Ja, I fucks it up. Sorrys."

"I kind of like it, though."

The words came before Pickles could stop them, and they made his face turn a bright shade of red. He looked back down at the broken glass and sticky mess of orange juice, threw down his now ruined shirt, and sighed. "Oh well. Later we'll just have to call a few Klokateers or somethin'."

"What cans I do?"

"Just sit on the bed. I'm coming in a sec."

Toki complied, jumping on the bed and spilling even more milk and corn flakes onto the sheets. Pickles sighed and closed his eyes. "Sorrys, sorry! I cans fix it! I-"

"Just forget it. We'll get them to clean that up too." the drummer said calmly as he sat down on the bed across from Toki and grabbed a bowl of cereal.

He ate it quickly, thinking to himself how nice this all was, hanging out with Toki. Nobody had ever really fixed him breakfast before, and although he knew it shouldn't, it sort of made him love the guitarist for doing it. He was so sweet, loving and innocent...some girl would be very lucky one day. This thought made Pickles almost bitter. No girl would be good enough for Toki. He was just _too _good for the stupid, slutty girls that hung around _Dethklok. _Hell, even the nice-looking, smart ones didn't deserve him. No, Toki deserved something else...

"This is good," Pickles said, snapping himself out of his thoughts. He hadn't liked where his daydreams were leading him. It was too personal, to deep. "Thanks, Toki."

He beamed and began drinking the milk from his bowl. "It ams fine. Skwisgaar wouldn't helps me find stupid cereal, though. He-"

"I wanna cook you somethin'." the drummer interrupted. It was a sudden thought, one that he hadn't meant to speak aloud. Once he had, though, there was no turning back. Toki nodded excitedly.

"Ja, you shoulds! I woulds like that!"

"Yeah," Pickles said thoughtfully. "I should. What about brownies?" he grinned. "My special brownies?"

Toki frowned and shook his head. "I don't reallys like those. What about more ice cream?"

"You dildo, I mean _really _cook. C'mon, just try 'em. Trust me, you'll like _my _brownies." Pickles was ginning madly now, scheming of all the ways he could put the weed in the mixture without Toki noticing...one thing was for sure, by the end of tonight, they'd both be flying high.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 4, Part 2**

**Defining Perfection**

The rest of the day was spent with Toki. As it turned out, due to an unforeseen chain of events, Pickles was stuck hanging out with the guitarist for the rest of the day. The drummer had walked him to Skwisgaar's room to talk about songs, but the Swede had utterly refused to talk to what he called, 'That stupids Norwegian didlo.'

And so that had been that. Toki became down, and it was up to Pickles to cheer him up...at least until the groupies showed up later that night. Then he told Toki goodnight and ushered the two girls into his room, a wicked grin on his face...

...but he couldn't do it. As the girls climbed on top of him, giggling and stripping their clothes, Pickles felt something inside him twisting and turning into a tight knot. It made him ill. He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt very sick, so he pushed the girls off of him and shook his head.

"Sorry," he said, pulling on his pants. "Just not in the mood no more."

One of the girls, a big-breasted blond one who had already taken her shirt and bra off, frowned. "What? But wh-"

"Fuck you," was his snappish response. "I ain't gotta explain nothin' to _you._ Just get outta my fuckin' room. I've gotta go do something."

He opened the door, motioning for them to go out. Both the girls gathered up their clothes but didn't dress. They just walked out into the hall half naked, their breasts exposed. Pickles rolled his eyes at this and before slamming the door said, "Look, just go to Skwisgaar's room. It's-"

The other groupie—the one whose hair wasn't as blond as the other girl's—let her mouth drop open. She gasped, "Skwisgaar Skwigelf is in the house right now?"

Pickles nodded. "Yeah. He's in the band to, and we live here and this is kind our house, so..." Both the girls exchanged glances. The drummer cleared his throat and continued, "Right, anyways, so his room's just down the hall, 'dere. Keep goin' and you'll see the door."

"How will we know if it's-"

"Trust me, he's busy with those four girls he took up there already. You'll _hear _him."

"Okay!" the bleach blond girl squealed, grabbing her friend's wrist and pulling her away. "Thanks, whatever your name is! God, if we'd known that then we wouldn't have settled for _you!"_

Pickles rolled his eyes. "Wow. Yeah, thanks."

"Bye!" the groupies said together, hurrying down the hall, laughing girlishly. Pickles stood in the doorway frowning. He shook his head and went back into his room, sighing deeply.

"Stupid sluts," Pickles mumbled to himself, throwing himself onto his bed. He sank into the mattress and groaned.

The truth was, he really hadn't felt like spending any time with anyone that wasn't Toki or didn't look like Toki or didn't act like Toki or—well, actually, he just liked _Toki. _He liked how his name sounded, he liked how he talked, he liked how he laughed, he liked how he looked when he laughed, he liked how he walked, and he liked...

Well, Pickles just liked a lot of stuff in life, especially if it was Toki.

But that didn't mean anything, did it?

"Stupid," he said to himself, reaching for a pillow. "Just dumb, stupid shit..."

Then Pickles got an idea. He didn't feel like screwing sluts or getting drunk tonight—alcohol was nice, but the hangover he got the next morning sure as hell wasn't. With another little sigh, the drummer hauled himself off the bed and walked out his room, not even bothering to put his shirt on as he did so. He did, however, buckle up his belt and zip up his pants. He wanted to go see Toki. Surely the Norwegian wasn't busy.

When he got to the guitarist's room, he didn't even bother to knock. He just barged right in and went over to the bed, where a long, brown-haired figure was sprawled, snoring loudly. Pickles punched Toki lightly on the shoulder and knelt down next to his bed. "Hey, Toki? Dude, you awake?"

"Huh? I...uh..." Toki started, looking around and covering his eyes. "P-Pickle? What you doing here?

He ignored this question and absentmindedly put some of the Norwegian's hair behind his ear, trying to coax him out of his sleepy delirium. "Hey, you awake?"

Toki let out a tired groan and rolled over to face him. His eyes were half open and full of tiredness, but, surprisingly, not a trace of annoyance. He even gave the drummer a small, exhausted smile. When he spoke his voice was full of quiet understanding and sweetness, despite his sleepy state. "Hey, Pickle. What you doing in my room? Where ams your girls?"

Pickles shrugged, climbed up over him, and scooted into the bed beside him, like it was nothing. Toki once again turned to face him and yawned. The drummer frowned. "Sorry. You want me to go, huh?"

He shook his head and whispered in the darkness, "Nos, it's okay. I likes being with you."

"Okay. Sorry I woke you up, it's just 'dat...well..." he sighed and smiled at Toki. "I dunno, I guess I just wanted to see you. To talk."

"Talks about what, Pickle?"

His mind went blank and he shrugged again. "I dunno, just maybe could we lay here for a while?"

"Sure, Pickle." and he squirmed in the covers and hugged himself, saying quietly, "Why you guys gots to keep it this colds at night? I'm freezings."

"Huh? Oh, come here, 'den." he wrapped his arms around Toki and before he could really think about it, he was hugging the Norwegian. He couldn't explain it, but he liked talking to Toki and being his source of attention. He liked how he was the only one who could do this with the guitarist, and he loved how Toki's body relaxed in his arms.

The Norwegian grinned and looked in Pickles' eyes. "Hey, guess what? You're good at hugging now. This ams perfect."

"Yep," he agreed. "Perfect." There was a long pause, one in which Pickles got an idea. He let Toki go and asked eagerly, "Hey, 'member how I said I wanted to cook you somethin'?"

The guitarist nodded. "Ja."

"Well let's go do it! Let's go cook somethin'!"

Toki thought for a minute then said, "But it ams midnight, Pickle. Too late for foods."

"Oh, c'mon, it'll be fun, right?" the drummer jumped out of the bed and his bare feet hit the cold floor of Toki's room. He turned, grabbed Toki's shoulder, and gave it a nudge. "Come on, dildo. Let's go cook somethin'."

"What we gonna cooks anyways?"

He thought for a second then said, "I dunno, something easy like brownies or whatever. Just come on and let's go!"

Toki rubbed his eyes and sighed. He pulled himself out the bed, switched on his lamp, then blindly began looking around the room for his pants. Pickles found them, threw them at the other man, and hurried over to the door, watching the guitarist slip into them. Toki came staggering over to him, his eyes closed, stifling another yawn. He hadn't even bothered to put on his shirt or anything, but then again, neither had the drummer.

"It's cool," Pickles said as they walked out the room together. "Don't matter what you wear, you always look good."

"Ja," he said dully. "Thanks you. I guess I looks okay." He leaned heavily against the drummer and hugged his right arm tightly, closing his eyes, and walking along peacefully. Pickles accepted this and smiled a little. It was _nice. _

He lead Toki into the kitchen, switched on the light, and gently guided the tired guitarist over to a chair and sat him down. "I'll make 'em if you-"

"Nos, we makes them together."

"But you're so fucking tired. Toki, look, maybe you should just go back to your room and when they're done I'll bring them to you in the morn-"

Toki's tone was firm as he said, "No, _we _dos it together."

Pickles shrugged. "Okay, 'den. Well, here's the thing—I really have no clue how to cook. In fact, I really have no idea where the stupid, douchebag brownie mix even is." he frowned and turned towards the food cabinet. Toki got up from his seat, opened the cabinet, and frowned.

"Sorry, but I can'ts read none of this. I only really reads Norwegian."

"What about music?"

He shook his head and admitted sheepishly, "Nos, I can't reads music, either."

Pickles' eyes grew wide. "Whadda mean? You can't read _English _music, right?" of course, music notes were music notes, he knew this. There really were no such things as 'English' music notes, but whatever. It didn't matter. Toki still shook his head all the same.

"Nopes. Can't reads it at all."

"Then how do you play?"

"I just dos it, I guess." and he peered back into the cabinet again and pulled out a random box that clearly read in big, red letters, _'BETTY CROCKER BROWNIE MIX'. _He passed it to the drummer and asked, scratching his head. "This it? It has pictures on front, so-"

"Ah, yeah, 'dats it!" Pickles exclaimed excitedly, snatching the box and reading it. He loved brownies. Anything chocolate or sweet he loved. That was also a contributing factor to his pudgy stomach. "Yeah," he said happily. "Betty Crocker's the fuckin' best."

Toki peered over his shoulder, pointed to the _Hershey's _chocolate logo, and asked, "Hershey? That ams chocolate, rights?"

"Yep, sure is. See? You're not as fuckin' stupid as you think," he said, bringing the brownie mix over to the counter. "Okay," he said. "Now I guess we need a friggin' bowl...hey, Toki? Could you dig in 'dat cabinet over there and get me a bowl and a spoon or somethin'?"

" 'Kay." he said, opening up the cabinet and bringing out a glass bowl and a wooden spoon. "This ams gonna be the best, huh?"

"Fuck yeah. Brownies are like Jesus," Pickles said, smacking his lips.

"Oh, ja, likes Jes-kus..." and the Norwegian's voice trailed off before he worked up the courage to ask, "And who ams Jes-kus again?"

"Not important," the drummer said. He didn't even bother to read the instructions on the box—he ripped the top off, opened the little plastic bag of brownie mix, and dumped it carelessly into the bowl. "Okay, now...I dunno, get some eggs."

"Egg?"

"Yeah, over 'dere in the fridge."

Toki opened the fridge, grabbed the whole carton of eggs, and the milk. He brought it over to him and dropped it all on the counter, saying, "What abouts chocolate sauce? To adds extra chocolate?"

He nodded and said delightedly, "Fuckin' right, Toki! I swear to God you're a genius! Go get some! It's on the side of the fridge, just where the pickles and stuff is."

In a second chocolate sauce was being squeezed into the powdered brownie mix. Pickles grinned, opened up the egg carton, and began cracking eggs. "Okay, I wish we had some instructions or somethin', but we don't, so I guess we'll just keep adding and adding eggs until it looks right."

"Okays! But what about milk?"

"You gotta add milk to brownie mix?"

Toki shrugged. "I don'ts know, but it just seems rights."

"True." and he unscrewed the top off the gallon of milk and poured half of it into the mix. Once that was done, he grabbed the wooden spoon and began stirring. " 'This is gonna be really good. Seriously. I ain't never really cooked nothin' in a long time, but I just know this is gonna be perfect."

The Norwegian watched him stir for a while then stuck his finger in the mix and ate some of it. He grinned and said, chocolate staining a corner of his mouth, "It tastes real good, lots of chocolate!"

"Hey, you got somethin'," Pickles said, motioning to the chocolate that stained Toki's mouth. "Look, I got it." he wiped it off and continued to stir. Finally he took out the spoon, passed it to the guitarist, and said, "Here you go, you can lick it, I guess. I really don't know why, but may folks never let me lick the fuckin' spoon...my doucebag older brother always gat to do 'dat. I only got to lick it if it had raw eggs on it it or somethin'."

Fortunately enough, Pickles had never found out that eating raw eggs caused salmonella, and that his parents had knowingly let him eat raw eggs hundreds of times—Seth, his brother, had gotten to eat the 'safe' things. Toki obviously didn't realize this either; he gladly took the spoon and sat down on the counter, sucking off all the chocolatey mess while the drummer threw the whole bowl in the oven and turned it up high.

"Whadda think we should set it for?"

The Norwegian shrugged. "I don'ts know; maybe fifteen minutes-es?"

"Good idea." and he set it for fifteen minutes then got up on the counter beside Toki, smiling. "This is actually pretty fun." but then the whole reason as to why he had decided to bake brownies to begin with came to him. Pickles let out a curse and dug in the pockets of his pants. "Ah, shit. I forgot the weed..."

"Huh?"

He quickly shook his head and responded, "Nothin' important."

The truth was, he really didn't feel like getting high right now anyway. It just seemed like a hassle, like something that could ruin his time with Toki. If he hung out with him, he wanted to be aware so he could think back on it. It was odd. Nothing in his life before this had encouraged him to skip the drugs and avoid the booze. Just Toki could do that to him.

He looked over and smiled a little. Toki was sitting, humming to himself, and looking down at his dangling feet. In his innocence, he was really perfect. Well, perfect for _Pickles _anyway, but who was to say that Pickles deserved that kind of perfection?

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 4, Part 3**

**Blanket Of Night**

Fifteen minutes later the brownies were done. Pickles jumped as the timer went off and looked around the room. He and Toki had actually fallen asleep on the counter, leaning against each other. The beep didn't even awaken the Norwegian, who had probably slept thru far worse things back in his home country. The drummer nudged him and Toki let out a tired groan. His head rested against Pickles' shoulder, and as he looked up, the drummer felt the warmth leave his shoulder.

"Huh?"

"The timer went off." he said, trying to fix his hair back into its usual position. Once that was done, he tried to jump off the counter, but found that Toki had one of his arms wrapped around his waist. "Hey," he said, elbowing him. "Lemme go."

"Oh, sorrys." he said groggily, releasing him.

Pickles walked over to the oven and switched off the timer. It didn't smell _that _bad, he decided, so he reached inside and hurriedly took the bowl out, then threw it over to the counter. Half of it spilled, and the drummer was left sucking on his hand and jumping up and down, letting out hisses of pain.

"Shit, that fuckin' _burns!"_

Toki grinned and said tiredly, "Why you reach into ovens, then?"

"Shut up," he retorted dryly, finding a couple of spoons and throwing them at the guitarist. "Bring those and the bowl and follow me."

"Wheres we going, Pickle?" he asked, grabbing the spoons and giving the bowl a minute to cool off before grabbing it. He took what was left of the milk and hurried after Pickles, repeating, "Where we goings, huh? Where are wes-"

"I dunno, just follow me."

The truth was that he really didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that anywhere he went with Toki was okay. In the end, as he climbed up the stairs that lead to his room, he decided that they should go up to the roof. It was a good night—not too cold, not too hot. Pickles took a left before they reached the hall that lead to his room and grabbed Toki's hand.

"Careful; it gets dark down here."

"Where we going, Pickle?"

"Trust me. You're gonna like it." and he lead him up one last flight up stairs and onto the roof. Once up there, he released his hold on the guitarist's hand and looked up at the starry blanket of night that hung above their heads. "See? It's nice, huh?"

Toki nodded and stared up the stars, his eyes shining. "Like nights in Norway, only it isn't snowings."

"Yep. Hey, pass me the fuckin' brownies, would ya?" Pickles said, taking the bowl from Toki's hands. It was still a little warm, but this time he wasn't burned. The drummer grabbed a spoon and dug into the chocolate mess, eating mouthful after mouthful, grinning as he did so. "Doesn't taste 'dat bad. Here, look." he held out his spoon to Toki.

The Norwegian took it and ate some himself, sighing as he did so. "Almost likes home..." he said, his voice trailing off into nothing. He sat down on the roof and the drummer followed suit, never taking his eyes off him.

"Ya know, Toki, this is really the first time I've ever done anything like this with anyone. You know, had _fun. _Just fun, no fucking or booze or any of 'dat shit. Just fun." and he hugged his knees to him and smiled. "And I like it."

"Ja, I likes it to. You really good pal, Pickle," Toki said, eating some more. "Making me feels at home like this. You got to be my best friend in the whole world."

The drummer's face turned red and he shrugged, the bones in his shoulders standing out. "I dunno if I'm so great."

"No, you perfect. Trusts me."

"Whatever you say."

Toki nodded and said timidly, "Yeah, it nice up heres with you and nobodys else. I likes it a lot." and he rested his head on Pickles' shoulder and devoured another spoonful of the brownie mess. "Mmm...tastes really chocolate." And thank God it did, because it was still half raw and would've tasted like raw egg if it hadn't been for the chocolate sauce they had put into it.

"Yeah, it's pretty damn good," Pickles agreed. "We did good,"

They both grew silent and stared up at the sky above them. It was so miraculous, the way the stars glittered and glistened against the black velvet of the night sky. The moon was just barley visible beneath a layer of thinning dark clouds, just a shy sliver of platinum that shined what little light it could down on Toki and Pickles. It all seemed just so close, like you could reach out and steal a star for yourself...so perfect...

And Pickles barley heard it as Toki whispered, "Pickle, I loves you."

It didn't register. The drummer didn't even hear it, but he recognized Toki's voice thru his thoughts, and so he nodded and said automatically, "Yeah, you to."

He was too busy looking up, trying to take in the scene before him. He was too busy to notice Toki as he fell asleep on his shoulder. Slowly he went to sleep as well, his head still full of wonderfully celestial thoughts.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 4, Part 4**

**Night Fades**

"What the fuck are you two doing out here?" was the sharp voice that woke Pickles up the next morning. The drummer let out a groan and opened his eyes. He felt some weight on his stomach, and when he looked down, he saw that Toki was laying with his head on him, snoring loudly. Nathan loomed above the both of them, looking deadly. He was glaring at Pickles as he repeated, "You heard what I said, didn't you, dildo? What the _fuck _did you do to him?"

All Pickles could manage to say was, "I...wait, what?"

Nathan let out a yell, grabbed him by his throat, and threw him away from Toki. "You fucking idiot! You didn't think that I would find out?"

"Find out what?"

And Toki, who was still on the ground, shifted and opened his pale blue eyes. "What's goings on, Pickle?" he looked up at Nathan and his face grew pale. "Oh heys, Natha-"

"Shut up!" he hissed, grabbing the Norwegian by a handful of his long hair and pulling. Toki let out a pained yelp and grew abruptly silent. He let Nathan haul him to his feet and push him towards the stairs that lead off the roof. "Get the fuck out of here."

"Toki, don't you dare move, don't you dare." Pickles said warily. He knew that the instant the guitarist disappeared down those stairs, Nathan would beat the living shit out of him. "Toki, don't do it. He won't touch you, he won't touch you again, just don't listen to him."

Nathan glanced over to the shaking guitarist, his green eyes wide. "What does he mean, 'again'? Huh?"

"Um...Is don't know..."

He took a step closer to him and hissed in his ear, "What the fuck did you tell him? Did you tell him about _it?"_

"I...Is..."

"Nathan, leave him alone, okay?" Pickles said, his voice becoming panicked. "He didn't do nothin'."

"Didn't do anything?" Nathan said. "I knew he told you something, I knew it! Skwisgaar said he saw you two hanging out so fucking much, and I woke up this morning some of the Klokateers said they saw you two going up the roof..."

"I didn't _wants _to tells him," Toki said, scrambling to redeem himself. "I didn't wants to, but he-"

"Shut the fuck up." Nathan said, pushing Toki towards the stairs. "Shut up and go wait for me in my room."

The Norwegian's eyes filled with tears. "Why? Yous not goings to makes me do _that _agains, right?"

"I said go wait."

He began crying freely, hugging himself. "Buts you saids only once, only once I hads to do it! Please, Nathans, don't makes me..."

"Fuck it, I'll take you there myself," Nathan growled, grabbing another handful of Toki's hair and pulling him down the stairs. Pickles stood there, panting, not knowing what to do. At the cries Toki gave out, though, he snapped out of his fear.

Without holding back, he latched onto Toki's wrist, trying desperately to pull him away from Nathan, but this did little good. The singer just turned around, raised his fist, and hit the drummer as hard as he could in the mouth. Pickles flew back with a curse and blacked out. By the time he woke up, he was alone on the rooftop.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

****A/N****

**Only 2 chapters left. Yay. ^_^**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5, Part 1**

**One Last Chance**

"Please, Nathans, don'ts makes me, don'ts dos it..."

"Shut your fucking mouth," he growled as he threw Toki into his room and locked the door. The Norwegian was shaking badly, his eyes full of a dull, horrible fear as the singer drew near to him. "The deal was," Nathan said, "That if you told anyone, then I'd get you kicked out of this fucking band. Don't you think I will? Don't you think I _want _you out after all the shit you've put me thru?"

Toki shook his head and whispered, "I haven't put you thru no shits, I swear. I'm sorrys."

"That's not good enough, 'cause now Pickles knows." and Nathan unbuckled his pants and pushed the cowering Norwegian down on his knees. "So what's the use in hiding it anymore or trying to act like it didn't happen?"

"But you saids-"

"And _you _said that you wouldn't tell anyone!"

"It ams just Pickle!"

"And you like him, don't you?" When Toki gave no answer, Nathan shook his head. "Unbelievable. You _do_ like him, huh?"

"Nos, I don't."

"Don't lie to me or it'll only be worse."

Toki didn't know how it could get much worse than it was about to be, but he still said, his voice breaking, "I ams telling truth; I don'ts likes him. He's not even my friend. I_ loves_ him."

"Well then once I get you kicked out the band, you can tell him just how you feel," Nathan jeered, pulling down his pants. "You can also tell him how I taste. Look, get down on your knees." Toki had been in the process of slowly rising to his feet, but Nathan pushed him back down roughly. "Get down on your knees and beg me to let you stay in my band."

"Please don't sends me back to Norway. I'll do anythings," Toki pleaded. "I swears."

"Yeah, you will do anything—_everything."_

Toki swallowed and his eyes began tearing up all over again. God, where was Pickles? Hadn't he always protected him? Where was he now, when Toki needed him the most? Where was he now when Toki was about to lose everything?

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 5, Part 2**

**Loss Of Innocence**

It took Pickles about half an hour to make his way all the way from the roof to Nathan's room. He was still disoriented to some extent from when he had been hit. With every step he took, the headache he had intensified, but he ignored it.He knocked on Nathan's door before going in, and when he saw Toki sitting in nothing but his pants on the edge of Nahtan's bed, his heart jumped into his throat.

"Toki, thank fuckin' Gad," he sighed as he went over and wrapped his arms around him. "Thank Gad you're okay. Look, it's all gonna be fine, alright? They're not gonna get rid of you. I'm gonna-"

"Nathan ams out," Toki said, not meeting Pickles' gaze. "He takings shower." His pale blue eyes were red from crying so much, making the blue of his irises standing out amazingly.

The drummer didn't see this as a problem, though. He just thought Toki was still shaken up about what had happened on the roof, so he didn't hesitate to lean forward and give him a little kiss on the cheek. The Norwegian squirmed away from him and cried, "Don'ts do that! Don'ts touch me!"

"I'm just really glad you're okay. Sorry, I just-"

"I don't ever wants you to looks at me again."

"I...what?" Pickles' face fell. He let Toki go and asked, "What? Why the fuck not? What did Nathan say?"

"He didn'ts _say _anything."

"He hit you or somethin'? 'Cuase I can fight too, I can. I can fuckin' rip him apa-"

"He didn't hits me either, idiots!" Toki cried. The drummer's mouth fell open as it all clicked. He glanced down, saw the way Toki was sitting, how he was nervously twisting his brown hair, and shook his head.

"Toki, what the fuck did you do with that dildo?"

"Pickle, I _really, really _don't wants to go back to Norway. I...sos I..."

"He made you suck his dick again?" he asked bluntly. Toki nodded.

"Ja, and somethings else..."

"Please, Toki, _please_ don't say you actually fucked him." Pickles begged.

"He saids if I did he might not kick me out of band!" the guitarist cried, fresh tears pouring from his eyes. He shuttered and mumbled, "Gods, I hated it. It was horrible."

Pickles hugged him again and whispered, "Gad, why'd you do 'dat? Huh? You know he's still gonna stick you on the first fuckin' plane to Norway, you dildo." he was crying to, now. Sobbing, in fact, and as Toki wrapped his strong arms around him, he said, "Why'd you have to go and let him take 'dat from you?"

"He wanted it, sos I lets him have it."

"There are some things you just don't give up, idiot!" Pickles said, planting a discreet kiss on the top of Toki's head. "There are some things...there are some things that can't be undone...some things that you can't do again..."

And it was now that he actually realized that beneath all his sympathy and hurt for the Norwegian, he was actually jealous.It was almost as if he had wanted to be the one who took Toki's virginity. That was ridiculous, of course, because he really didn't like him like that...

"Pickle, you gots to go, you really do. Nathans will be out of shower soon," Toki breathed, pushing the drummer away from him. Pickles nodded.

"Okay, I'll go. Just promise me one thing."

"Ja?"

"I don't care what he says, don't fuck him again, okay?"

He sniffled. "Okays."

And, knowing that there wasn't anything else he could do, Pickles turned and hurried out of the room, softly closing the door behind him.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

**Chapter 5, Part 2**

**Almost Too Late**

Later that night Toki came out in the living room with Nathan. He was wearing his shirt now, and in his right hand he was carrying his old suitcase. Skwisgaar saw this and grinned. "Where you goings, little Toki? You looks like you ready to packs up and leave."

For some reason, the Swede was treating the other guitarist like he was something of a little brother. Murderface just sneered at him and said, "What'sh up? You bailing out on ush?"

"Guys, I—uh...well," Nathan glanced at Pickles for a second before looking down at the ground. "Toki decided earlier today that he wanted to go home, back to Norway and everything, so I bought him a plane ticket."

Pickles' eyes grew wide. "He what?"

"He _decided," _Nathan repeated in a deadly voice. "He decided it himself."

The drummer jumped to his feet and yelled, "Yeah, I'm sure he did, douchebag! He said 'dat after you told him to get the fuck out!"

Skwisgaar let out a low chuckle and said, "Hey, Pickle, calms down. If he wants to leave, he wants tos left. Don'ts stops him. It ammnest his decision."

"No," he said, "no it ain't!"

"I decides, Pickle. I'ms leaving. It ams fine." Toki said dully before turning to Nathan and asking, "Where my ticket, please?"

"Here you go." he said, sounding quite pleased. Nathan passed him the plane ticket. "Someone will meet you at the door and carry your stuff."

"Thanks." and without another word, Toki turned and left the room. Pickles was left standing there, his mouth wide open.

"What the fuck..." he wondered aloud.

"He'sh finally gone!" Murderface exclaimed joyously. "He'sh gone and it only took a few weeksh!"

"Ja, I'ms pretty sure 'dat ammnest new record," Skwisgaar said, grinning. "Pretty goods."

"No, it ain't good!" and Pickles turned to Nathan, who just shrugged.

"He really just decided it on his own. If you wanna say goodbye then you'd better hurry up and catch him. He's probably out the door alrea-"

Pickles was already out the room, running to find Toki. His eyes were brimming with tears, hopelessly blurring his vision. As he ran he almost tripped several times, but finally he caught up with Toki, who was standing at the end of the hall, in front of the main door of Mordhaus, looking up as if trying to memorize every detail of the exit. Upon seeing him, the drummer let out a cry. "Toki, what the fuck?"

He hurried over to him and hugged him tightly, never letting go until Toki himself pulled away and asked, "Whys you here, Pickle?"

" 'Cause you're leavin'." he was panting, trying to hold in his tears. "Why're you leavin' me, Toki?"

"I ams not leaving _you, _I ams leaving _Dethklok._" 

"You're leavin' this house though, right?"

He nodded. "Ja, I guesses so."

"Then you're leavin' _me, _you idiot." and Pickles leaned forward and kissed his forehead. The drummer reached forward and put some of the Norwegian's long, brown hair behind his ears and said, "You can't leave me. It's impossible." at the puzzled look on Toki's face he added, "I can't imagine me without you."

"You don't understands, Pickle," he said, trying to pull away. "I _haves _to leave, 'cause I hates it here and everyone hates me."

"But that's just it—I don't hate you."

"But I hads sex with Nathans."

He shrugged. "So? Look, I don't care about any of 'dat. The only thing that really matters is you." and before he could stop himself, he was crying, saying, "Look, I don't really know what I'm doin' here, but you can't leave, you just can't!"

"Whys not?" Toki asked. "This place fucks me up real bad! Why can't I just leave?"

"Because I...I...if you leave, then I leave. You're like a_ piece _of me. Don't you get it?"

And it was now that Pickles realized that Toki was more than just his friend or even his best friend. He was these things, but so much more. He was his heart, his mind, his everything. Pickles loved him, he loved him so much more than he could even believe. He was his everything, his one reason for being what he was. The realization made Pickles lose himself for a second and flash back to the events of the night before. Suddenly he could hear it, he could hear Toki's whispered admission of, _Pickle, I loves you, _ringing in his head clearly, as if Toki were saying it all over again, and he understood.

_He wants me to say it too, _Pickles thought, his green eyes meeting the Norwegian's desperate, lost ones. He could see it there, the silent plea for love and acceptance. _He wants to hear that someone loves him. God, he wants me to love him so bad..._

"Toki, I...I..."

"Pickle, look, just lets me go."

He went to pull away, to walk out the door, but Pickles caught him and whispered, "I love you."

"What?"

"I fuckin' love you!"

"I—you...whats?"

"_I...love...you!"_

Toki nodded. "Ja, I thoughts that what you said."

He melted back into Pickles' arms, hugging him so tightly that it hurt. All the drummer could do was keep repeating over and over, "I love you so damn much, God, I love you. Everything about you, it's fuckin' incredible. You're so perfect I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any part of you, but-"

"Yous can haves me, if you want," Toki said, turning a little red. "You deserves everything that you wants—every part of me." and he began shaking horribly and crying so hard that Pickles actually became scared.

"I swear it's okay, it's fine..."

"I wanteds you there, Pickle! I wanted its to be you!"

He swallowed and asked, his voice an urgent whisper, "Wanted what to be with me?"

"I'm tryings to say that I wanteds to lose it to _you, _Pickle. It haves always been _you._" He shook his head and wiped his nose. Looking down, he said, "Yous was just so nice to me and...and...I wanteds you to be there when Is did it for the first time. I wanteds you to be the one I dids it with, too."

He smiled a little and said with some timidness, "Whadda mean? Sleep with you?"

Toki nodded. "Ja, I guess sos."

"You really want someone to love you, don't you?" he asked quietly, running a hand thru Toki's hair. "And I do. I love you so fuckin' much." And he leaned forward, but hesitated. Toki was staring into his eyes, tears still making their way down his perfect face in shining trails. Pickles' voice was shaking as he asked quietly, "Can I kiss you?"

He nodded and said, "You ain't gots to ask."

And Toki met Pickles in the middle and kissed him so deeply that the drummer faltered. He moved into it, though, because it was the only thing he could do. It was the only thing he _wanted _to do. He knew that if he hesitated even a little now, Toki would never forgive him, because for some stupid reason the guitarist thought the world of Pickles. For some unknown reason he was actually in love with him.

But the reality of the kiss was that, although Pickles knew that it was wrong and un-brutal and gay and a billion other things, he really didn't care. As his hands made their way to the arch of Toki's back and pushed their two bodies closer, so wonderfully close, all Pickles could think about was one thing—going further. Pickles let out a moan and his hands grabbed Toki's hips and pushed them forward. His tongue entered the Norwegian's mouth and began trying to coax the guitarist's into playing his game. And the best part was although Pickles could tell that he was terrified about how all of this would end, Toki never pulled away. He never ended it.

Toki closed his eyes and wrapped his legs around the drummer's waist, just as Pickles' hands made their way up his shirt, trying to feel those wonderfully hard muscles. They didn't say anything. It was eerily silent in the room, despite their panting and moaning. They fell against the wall, but still didn't stop kissing, not until the sound of a slamming door and footsteps came echoing down the hall. Only then did Toki pull away and look around, breathing hard.

"What was thats?"

"I dunno, just come here."

He pulled Toki back into his arms, kissed him again, and held him. Toki was nearly crying again as he said, "Pickle, you gots to let me go, you _gots _to! What if it ams Nathans? He'll be so pissed..."

"Then he can fuckin' deal with it."

"He'll kills me..."

Pickles got to his feet and helped Toki up, saying, "It's fine. We'll play it aff."

Toki tried to cover the front of his jeans, his face blushing horribly. "Don't thinks I can plays _this _off."

The drummer sighed. "Of all the fuckin' times to get a boner, why do you choose _now?"_

He shrugged and answered back, smiling sheepishly. "You really good kisser."

Just as the words left his mouth, a harsh, growling voice said, "What the fuck are you still doing here? I thought I told you to get out." They both turned and weren't surprised to see Nathan walking over to them, his hands clenched into fists. Upon seeing Pickles, he said accusingly, "Toki, what the fuck have you been doing all this time with him? You were supposed to be on the plane by now, idiot."

"Is...um...Is sorry, Nathan, but I changed my mind. I'm staying," he said, picking up his bag and making to walk away. Nathan scoffed and crossed his arms.

"Oh yeah? Why'd you change your mi-" his eyes grew wide and he pulled Toki back by his arm, making him let out a little gasp of surprise. With rage in his eyes, he pushed the Norwegian's arms away, uncovering the one part of his anatomy that he had been trying to hide under his black jeans. Once Nathan saw the erection, he punched Toki right in the face, yelling, "What the living _fuck _have you been doing?"

Toki fell to the floor, gripping his mouth. Blood trickled down from his lip, which was now clearly and neatly sliced open down the middle. Pickles didn't hesitate to hurry over to him and try and wipe the blood away, saying soothingly, "It's okay, it's not 'dat bad."

"Get the fuck away from him!" Nathan said, grabbing Pickles by his arm and trying to throw him off the guitarist. The drummer didn't budge, though. Instead he turned around and returned the blow Nathan had dealt to Toki. His fist hit so hard that knuckles cracked and a searing pain shot into the drummer's hand, but he managed to ignore it.

"Don't you ever fuckin' touch him again!"

Nathan didn't get up from where he lay; he was too shocked to do anything. This only made Pickles angrier. He was so angry that he tried to hit him again, but Toki reached out and stopped him. "Don'ts dos it! He knows now, he understands. He'll leave us alone."

"But Toki, he-" 

"So you guys are _together _now?" Nathan asked, rising slowly to his feet. In his eyes all the previous anger was gone. He had cut himself completely from Toki, trying to abandon any emotions he felt towards himr, whether that be envy, love, hate, or rage. He abandoned it all just to ask again, "You guys really love each other like that?"

"Yeah, we do." Pickles responded automatically, taking Toki's hand. He intertwined his fingers with the guitarist's and announced, "I love him a lot."

"But you've never _loved _anything besides booze as long as I've known you," Nathan said. "Not even the sluts you fuck every night."

"But I love him."

"Huh," was all he said, scratching his head. "Huh..."

"I loves you too, Pickle." Toki said, kissing the drummer on the lips as Nathan stood there, staring at them with a mixture of mild discontent and curiosity.

"Huh," Nathan said again. "So you guys...I mean, you know that this is not in any way metal or brutal, right?"

Pickles shrugged. "Yep. Know it, but don't really care."

"Well I guess that's it, then...you two—well, just...I'm gonna go and tell Skwisgaar and Murderface that Toki's staying." and just before Nathan turned around and left, he asked the Norwegian, "You _are _staying, right?"

He nodded. "Ja, as long as Pickle ams here with mes."

"Right. I'll...I guess I'll see you guys later." and Nathan walked away, his deeply green eyes vacant. Pickles and Toki stood there, both equally surprised at how casually he had ended it, like nothing had ever happened—like he hadn't punched Toki in the mouth...

"Pickle, it bleeds a lot?"

"Huh?" he looked over and frowned. Toki's lip was still bleeding a little. The blood ran ran down his chin in a little stream.

The drummer reached forward and gently wiped it away, then kissed him. "It's fine now."

Toki sighed and let Pickles hold his face and run his hands thru his hair. "You makes me better, Pickle. You always do."

"I guess..." his voice faltered, but after a moment of thinking Pickles said, turning a little red, "I guess you make me better too, Toki."

"Pickle, ams I yours?"

"Whadda mean?"

"I mean you wants to be with me?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

It came out sounding very casual, but in reality everything in Pickles willed him to scream yes. Yes, he wanted Toki to be his. Yes, he wanted to belong to Toki and only Toki—no more screwing stupid sluts who he really didn't give a fuck about. Yes, he wanted to be with Toki forever, because he made Pickles feel like he actually wasn't just useless trash. He was the only person who had ever loved Pickles, and who had ever earned the drummer's love in return. Yes, everything in Pickles wanted him to have Toki forever; to screw him, to kiss him, to hold him, and just to talk with him...

Forever, however long that was.

The longer he was with Toki, the more he realized that maybe forever was really longer than just one stupid lifetime. Maybe—he had realized it while looking up at the stars last night—one human lifespan, once you boiled it down, was just a speck of time, a drop of water in a nearly empty cup. There had to be more. There _had _to be more time to spend, more time other than just a mere drop. There had to be more than just a speck to fill up that cup, to occupy the empty spaces of the limitless, incomprehensible infinity that lied beyond this life. Toki had made him think about this. He had also made Pickles realize that if he had to spend any of that _other _time with anyone, whether it be in this lifetime or not, he wanted to spend it with Toki.

Never before had anyone made Pickles think about these things. Love, eternity—his death. That's what made him love Toki so much. That's what made him squeeze the guitarist's hand and say, "Fuck it, I'm stupid. I mean fuck yes I wanna be with you."

Toki beamed up at him, a beautiful sight, despite his cut lip and the little bit of blood that still stained his face. "That's good, I thinks...well, maybes I wants to be with you to." and he tugged at Pickles' hand and whispered, "I really, really wants to make you happy."

"Make me happy?"

He turned a bright shade of crimson and said in a low voice, "I wants to suck your di-"

"Whoa, Toki, look," Pickles said, clearing his throat. Suddenly his pants felt very tight, and he tried to hide his from the Norwegian by backing away. Unfortunately, this only served to hurt Toki's feelings. The drummer rushed to gave him another long, deep kiss then continued, "Look, you_ just _broke up with Nathan 'cause you didn't want to do 'dat, so why ruin what we've got? Please, Toki, if you broke up with me now, I don't know what I'd do..."

"No, Pickle, it ams different between us! I actually loves you!" his hands wrapped around the drummer's hips as he said, biting his lip and looking down, "I _wants _to dos it. Real bad."

"You want to do it? I mean, you really want to?"

He nodded and his pale blue eyes lit up at the mere thought of it. "Ja, I wants to make you happy."

"You already are, though."

"You knows what I mean. And maybe after that wes can-"

"One thing at a time, Toki," Pickles interrupted, walking off in the direction of his room. Toki followed, holding his hand and staring down at the floor.

God, this was going to be something.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Something Special**

His hands were sweating, his heart racing as he opened the door and let Toki inside his room. The Norwegian went over to his bed and plopped down on it, bouncing up and down delightedly. "In Norways you knows what I sleep on?"

"What?" Pickles asked, closing the door softly.

"Floor." Toki said, taking off his shirt. "Sometimes with blankets in the winters, but I was mostly cold."

The drummer frowned. "So you slept in the cold?"

"Ja, and sometimes hungrys, too, but it wasn't so bads. Sometimes I eat snows and it kind of fills you up."

The guitarist obviously didn't see a problem with these things, but it all made Pickles' stomach turn, and as he went over to the bed and laid down he said, "Well, you're not ever gonna have to be cold or fuckin' hungry again."

Toki beamed over at him and tugged at his wrist. "Comes on, Pickle, you saids-"

"I know, I just—I'm...I need a minute, 'kay?" he said, staring up the ceiling. The Norwegian shrugged and laid his head on the drummer's stomach, looking up as well.

Finally he asked, "Pickle, you nervous, huh?"

"Huh?"

"You don't wants me to dos it, huh?"

Pickles shook his head. "No, I'm not scared of nothin'."

"Oh. That ams good. I wish I was more likes you."

This made him laugh a little and say, "No you don't. Trust me." And without further hesitation, he took Toki in his arms and began kissing him and loving him. It made him feel so damn good, almost as good as it made him feel as Toki's hands passed along the zipper of his jeans and began to fumble with his belt. "Hold on," Pickles breathed, "I got it."

He undid his belt and let Toki pull down his pants and underwear and jump off the bed. "You sure you wanna-" But knew the guitarist was sure. He was already on his knees, poised and ready.

He knew it shouldn't be a big deal, and Pickles sort of felt like an idiot for thinking that it was one, but in a way, it would be the first real sexual thing that Toki had ever done. The drummer refused to consider what Nathan had done to the guitarist as anything, mostly because it was just so cruel and cold...who would ever be able to take advantage of Toki like that? To hurt him so badly?

Yes, he was nervous. Terrified, actually. No one before had ever managed to make him feel like this. Still, he did want it. He wanted it so fucking badly. Pickles scooted closer to Toki and shuttered as the guitarist ran his hands along his growing erection. God, he had warm hands...

And Toki knelt there, stroking him for a while, until Pickles said in a trembling voice, "You _really _wanna suck my dick?"

"Oh, ja," he whispered, running his thumb along the head of the drummer's erection. "I likes doings this—playings with you."

"Uh-huh," he rasped, trying to contain his desire. He had to hold it, had to fight it off.

Toki smiled up at him and all too suddenly took Pickles into his mouth, sucking and running his tongue over him. The drummer gasped and gripped Toki's hair. "God, 'dat's good..."

His whole body was rigid with the beautiful pleasure of it all. Pleasure that was becoming greater, and greater...Toki sucked him in even deeper, letting out a deep moan as Pickles' erection grew. He was trying so very hard to hold it, to make it last. But, Jesus, was it so perfect. Unable to resist, Pickles looked down, watched as Toki sucked him and teased him. His grip on the Norwegian's scalp became even tighter, making Toki grimace. But he didn't quit. He liked the pain.

Pickles let out a hiss of pleasure and began to cum a little. Toki swallowed and his blue eyes flitted up, full of love and affection. It was clear that he wouldn't do this—wouldn't even consider doing this—for anyone one else other than Pickles.

The drummer saw this and came a little more, biting back an exclamation of ecstasy. "Fuck yeah," he whispered. "God, Toki, you're so fuckin' perfect..."

And that was it. He released himself inside Toki's mouth, cursing as he did so. Once he had, the guitarist gratefully swallowed and took Pickles' cock out of his mouth, smiling a little. "You likes it?"

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, falling back on the bed, not even bothering to put his clothes back on. Toki climbed up on the bed as well and laid on him, kissing him and trying to get some more affection.

"I really likes doing that with yous."

"Uh-huh." he responded, still breathing hard. Pressing against his stomach he could feel something distinctly hard. He looked down and saw that beneath Toki's jeans there was a firm erection.

"You pulls my hair a little hards, though."

"That ain't the only hard thing you're gonna be getting," Pickles breathed, kissing him on the lips.

"I kind of likes the hurt, though." Toki commented, licking the lips. "Only when yous dos it—I only ever wants to do that kinds of stuff with you."

"Yeah?"

He nodded and let the drummer's hands run along the firm muscles of his abs. Under the warm touch of Pickles, he smiled. "Ja."

"Well if you liked 'dat then just wait 'till tomorrow," the drummer said, closing his eyes. The day had passed by so quickly, zapping all of the energy from him. He longed for the taste of alcohol, the high of heroin or _something. _Anything would do, but he had Toki to deal with. He knew that anything he did, the Norwegian would want to try too. Was he willing to introduce him to that kind of life?

Yes, he was.

In an instant Pickles had reached over to his nightstand, where a half-empty bottle of tequila sat gleaming in the moonlight that streamed in from the open window. Sitting there, the glass of the bottle the color of the hazy moon, it was almost calling to him in that sweet, whispering voice that addiction brought. "Hey," Pickles said, "how about you close 'dat window over there, huh?"

Toki frowned. "But I likes it, seeing the stars and everythings. It reminds me of home."

"Oh. Okay, then leave it open." he said softly, kissing the guitarist on the lips. "Whatever makes you feel better. Hey, want a drink?" he presented the bottle to Toki, but not before taking a large sip from it himself. "It's really fuckin' good."

He wrinkled his nose. "Booze? Why you drinks that stuff?"

"I dunno. I really like the flavor." and he drank some more and sighed in content, feeling the warm, burning rush of alcohol coat his throat. He knew he was killing himself with all the drugs he did and all the alcohol he drank, but the problem was he was just too deep into the shit to quit. He needed it, almost as much as he needed Toki.

"Sure, I'll takes some," Toki said, reaching for the bottle. Pickles let him have some and watched as his pale blue eyes began blinking rapidly, trying to focus.

"Too much?"

"Nos, I wants more."

" 'Kay, whatever. S'your hangover, dude."

Pickles and Toki spent the rest of the night screwing with each other some more and drinking. Mostly just drinking, though. Both of them were far too uncoordinated when drunk to actually touch each other _that _much, but still, it was nice. What was better was the following morning.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

_**E P I L O G U E**_

Pickles awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee. He smacked his lips and opened his eyes. His throat was burning with thirst, and although he held a bottle of tequila in his hand, it was disappointingly empty. The events of the day before were a mystery to him until he saw Toki standing in his doorway in nothing but his black jeans, holding an entire box of cereal, a couple of bowls, two spoons, and a whole gallon of milk. On the nightstand next to the drummer were two cups of steaming coffee.

"I didn't fucks it up this time!" Toki said in a sing-song voice, grinning so proudly that it was almost absurd. Pickles scratched his head and sat up.

"Yeah, 'dat's good. Why're you doin' this again?"

" 'Cause I loves you and you wakes up so late that-"

"No, I mean..." he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Shit, how much'd we drink last night?"

"Only half a bottles of tequila," Toki responded innocently, throwing the box of cereal, the milk, and the bowls and spoons on the bed. He fell into the drummer's open arms and closed his eyes placidly. "But I fix you breckfasts, 'cause-"

"Oh yeah, thanks for 'dat." and he quickly drank the whole cup of steaming coffee. "Perfect," he breathed, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Why was he so hungry? Usually drinking took a lot out of him—true, Pickles wasn't the best at holding his booze—but normally he wasn't starving afterward. Almost timidly he asked, "Toki, what else did we do last night?"

"I don't remembers that well, but-"

As Pickles' hands went to hold Toki's, they brushed against his upper arm, running along some particularly gross cuts. When he looked down he saw that they were small puncture wounds, like those from a needle. He felt his heart drop. When he peered at his own arm and discovered the same kind of dotted marks, he felt sick. Toki looked up at him.

"Whats? What ams wrong?"

"Toki, did you stick a needle up your arm last night?"

He shrugged and said casually, "Well, ja, but that ams only 'cause you saids it would make me feel good, and it did."

"Aw crap," Pickles breathed. "Why the _fuck _would I say 'dat?"

"Well it ams was true! Why, what's wrong?"

"Toki, I gave you heroin."

His eyes shined dully as he said, "Oh...and what ams that again?"

"Nothing, just—what else did we do?"

And for the first time, his eyes took in the full scene of his room. Cocaine was spilled in little piles on the nightstand, some of it cut into little, neat rows. There were also little Ziploc bags of marijuana spilled in a corner of the room, next to the window. He groaned. "Son of a bi-"

"Wells, anyway, it was fun," Toki said. "Sos what ams it really matter?"

Pickles looked down at him and smiled. It was true. What did it matter? So what if they would both end up in fucking rehab one day? At least they'd be there together.

"Yeah," the drummer agreed. "It was kinda fun, huh?"

And he fixed Toki a bowl of cereal and they ate together, both slurping up the milk and corn flakes hungrily. In the end, Pickles couldn't help thinking that if this is how it would be every day of his life, maybe the world wasn't such a shitty place after all. If Toki really belonged to him—and always would be his—then, what the hell? Maybe life was about more than just money and drugs. Maybe it was worth getting up the morning and saying no to a couple of drinks every now and then. Maybe it was almost worth living.

"Toki?"

He looked up and wiped his mouth. "Ja?"

"You're gonna...I mean you ain't gonna leave, huh?"

Toki thought about it for a moment then shook his head. "Nos, I'm never going to leaves you."

The drummer sighed. "Oh. 'Dat's good. And...well, you wouldn't mine bein' with me forever? Y'know, just—I..." he cleared his throat and said, "I love you."

"And I loves you to."

"So you wanna stay with me?"

"Of course. I ams yours, and you ams mine, right? Ams that how love works?"

"Yeah," Pickles said, "that's how love works."

And they spent the rest of breakfast talking, and for the first time Pickles actually felt..._whole. _It didn't feel like he needed a drink or a noseful of cocaine to feel complete. For once he didn't want to just sit in his room all day and get high, because now he had something more. Now he was in love and had someone to love him back. For once, he didn't feel like he belonged in a garbage can

[_Thanks, dad_]

and he wasn't mad at his stupid, douchebag brother

[_He burned down the fuckin' garage and he blamed it on me_]

or any of that stupid, childish shit. He was just in love with Toki, and no matter what, he always would be.

**[[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]][[]][[[]]]**

****A/N****

**Hope you enjoyed this story. Remember that reviews are love. Also, in reference to the mention of ****the garbage can and the burnt-down garage, these things were brief flashbacks from **_**Fatherklok **_**and **_**Rehabklok**_**. They are two of some of my favorite moments from each episode, so I thought I'd somehow work them in. Hope you liked it. ^_^**

**[sequel in progress?]**


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